/ 


COL.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  FLOWERS 
MEMORIAL  COLLECTION 


DUKE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
DURHAM.  N.  C. 


PRESENTED  BY 

W.  W.  FLOWERS 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Archive 
in  2012  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


http://archive.org/details/rightorwrongtaleOObail 


RIGHT  OH  WW 


A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH 


By  mUTHIItDE  AltPUEUTE  MIItEY 

Author  of  ''Heart  Histories,''  ''Sam  Waggle  Papers,"  "At  a 

Picnic, "    "The  Man  Who  Sold  His  Kisses, ' ' 

and  Other  Tales. 


1912 

THE  L.  GRAHAM  COMPANY,  Ltd. 


NKW    OBLBAN8 


TO   NAZARETH, 

MY  BELOVED  ALMA  MATER, 

THIS    WORK   IS 

GRATEFULLY  DEDICATED 

BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


The  author  wishes  to  thank  His  Grace,  Most  Eev. 
James  H.  Blenk,  Archbishop  of  New  Orleans,  and 
The  Morning  Star,  for  permission  to  publish,  in  book 
form,  this  story,  which  first  appeared,  serially,  in  the 
columns  of  the  official  organ  of  the  Diocese. 

M.  A.  B. 


S48284 


Copyrighted   1912. 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG 

A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH 


BY  MATHILDE  ALPUENTE  BAILEY 


CHAPTEK  1. 


''Hello!  Mamma!  Eita!  Mam  Tel!"  Tlie  words  arose  in  crescendo. 
The  speaker,  a  young  man  wearing  the  uniform  of  the  New  Orleans  Washington 
Artillery,  leaned  in  his  saddle  and  peered  eagerly,  in  the  fast  gathering  gloom, 
towards  the  house  that  stood  in  a  grove  of  trees  some  distance  back  from  the 
gate.  Not  waiting  for  a  reply  to  his  summons,  he  leaned  from  his  saddle, 
dexterously  unfastening  the  latch,  rode  at  full  speed  and  reached  the  gallery, 
just  as  his  call  was  answered  by  three  women,  on  whose  faces  fear  and  anxiety 
were  plainly  to  be  read. 

"Mamma!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  have  only  a  moment  to  stay.  The  troops 
have  been  massing  towards  the  enemy's  front  all  day.  There  will  be  an  attack 
undoubtedly  to-morrow.  It  is  as  I  feared.  You  may  be  in  the  thick  of  the 
fight.  I  came  to  remind  you  that  there  is  on  the  other  bank  of  Lick  Creek  n 
small  house,  in  which  I  have  secured  a  room  for  you.  Mrs.  Frawley  is  also 
provided  for,  if  she  will  accompany  you.  Turner's  Ford  is  safe,  and  Mrs. 
Frawley  knows  the  country  and  will  easily  find  the  house  on  the  Hamburg 
Eoad.  You  must  promise  me  you  will  go  to  Mr.  Atkins.  Tell  him  who  you  are, 
he  will  be  prepared  for  you.     Promise  me!" 

"As  you  will,  my  son,"  replied  Mrs.  Levillier,  "all  I  desire  is  to  be  near 
enough  to  you  in  case  you  are  wounded.  I  will,  however,  not  leave  here  unless 
the  danger  becomes  imminent.    You  will  therefore  know  where  to  find  me." 

"Well,    I    must    be    off.      Good    bye    Mam    Tel!      Good    bye    little    sister! 


248284 


6  EIGHT  Oil    WRONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

Adieu  Mamma;"  and  stooping,  he  kissed  his  mother  with  that  tenderness  we 
use  to  those  we  may  never  see  again. 

"May  God  and  his  holy  Mother  have  you  in  their  keeping,"  Mrs.  Levillier 
murmured,  while  Rita  clung  to  his  neck  and  cried.  Mam  Tel  had  taken  pos- 
session of  his  hand  and  was  kissing  it,  'faut  de  mieux, "  for  had  he  been  on 
level  ground,  she  would  not  have  hesitated  to  kiss  his  cheeks  as  affectionately 
as  she  did  his  hand. 

Disengaging  himself  from  the  loving  hands  of  those  who  would  willingly 
have  detained  him,  Lieutenant  Victor  Levillier  wheeled  his  horse,  and  in  a 
moment  was  lost  to  the  sight  of  those  loving  women,  his  uniform  of  blue  (the 
Confederacy  had  not  at  the  battle  of  Shiloh  as  yet  furnished  all  the  troops  with 
the  gray,  since  immortalized  in  song  and  story),  merging  quickly  with  the  already 
lengthening  shadows  of  the  forest. 

Victor  Levillier  was  short  of  stature,  with  a  clear  olive  complexion,  bril- 
liant black  eyes,  and  possessed  a  high  strung,  yet  a  calm,  almost  judicial  turn 
of  mind.  He  had  scarcely  left  college,  when  at  the  death  of  his  father  he 
found  himself  the  joint  possessor,  with  mother  and  sister,  of  one  of  the  finest 
plantations  on  the  river,  and  with  characteristic  energy,  he  put  aside  every 
other  ambition,  determined  to  be  their  stay  and  comfort. 

At  an  early  age  his  inherited  love  of  military  life  had  manifested  itself 
in  his  becoming  a  member  of  the  famous  corps  in  which  his  father  had  seen 
service  in  Mexico.  His  ardor  and  attention  to  duty  soon  secured  for  him  the 
approval  of  his  superior  officers,  and  he  was  rapidly  advanced,  until  a  vacancy 
occurring  in  their  number,  he  was  chosen  to  fill  it. 

Scarcely  six  months  had  he  worn  his  new  honors  when  came  that  rending 
of  all  former  ties;  and  those  dark,  days  that  were  to  try  men's  souls  and  women's 
patriotism,  fell,  like  a  bolt  from  heaven,  upon  our  Southern  land. 

Victor  came  to  his  mother: 

"Mamma,  the  artillery  h?is  offered  its  services  to  the  Southern  Confederacy. 
You  know  what  I  should  like  to  do. — What  shall  I  do? 

For  a  moment  Mrs.  Levillier  was  silent.  Every  fiber  of  her  heart  called 
out  to  her  to  keep  her  son. 


EIGHT   OB  WEONG;   A   TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH,  T 

"My  child,"  she  said  at  last,  "even  exacting  France  leaves  the  widow  her 
only  son." 

"You  are  speaking  of  conscripts,  Mother,  not  of  a  gentilhomme, "  Victor 
replied  bitterly,  "Think  you,  had  my  great  grandfather  De  Noyan  listened  to 
the  voice  of  those  who  cry,  'sauve  qui  peut,'  he  would  have  thrown  away  his 
sure  chances  of  escape  to  share  the  ignominious  fate  the  butcher,  O'Eeilly, 
meted  out  to  him  and  his  companions?  Mamma,  Mamma!  I  have  been  a  play 
soldier  so  long,  do  not  make  me  a  recreant  now,  that  duty  calls!"  and  Victor 
threw  himself  beside  his  mother's  knees,  and  buried  his  face  in  her  lap,  as  he 
had  so  often  done  when  pleading  for  some  boyish  escapade. 

Mrs.  Levillier  put  her  hand  on  his  head  and  stroked  it  with  a  loving  t«uch. 
At  last  she  spoke — ^"Forgive  me,  my  child,  I  have  listened  to  the  promptings 
of  my  selfish  heart.  You  are  right.  Liberty  is  your  birthright.  She  calls  and 
you  must  obey..  Go,  my  son,  I  need  not  say  keep  your  sword  untarnished,  us 
you  received  it  from  your  father." 

Victor  rose,  and  bending  over,  kissed  his  mother  and  said  simply,  "Thank 
you.  Mamma."  Then  after  a  moment  given  to  the  deep  emotion,  which  both  felt, 
he  said,  "Jean  has  always  been  a  trustworthy  overseer;  the  hands  obey  him  will- 
dngly, — Besides,  I  have  every  hope  that  my  absence  will  not  be  for  long.  In 
fiact,  every  one  says  that  ninety  days  will  see  the  war  ended.  So  don't 
worry, ' ' 

So  it  was  settled  and  the  only  condition  Mrs.  Levillier  imposed  was  that 
Jean  Meaux  should  be  left  in  entire  charge  of  the  plantation,  while  she,  Laurita 
and  Mam  Tel  should  follow  at  a  safe  distance,  so  that  they  could  be  near  in 
case  Victor  should  be  wounded  or  fall  sick. 

It  was  thus  that  on  the  eve  of  the  6th  of  April,  1862,  Mrs.  Levillier,  Eita. 
and  Mam  Tel  found  themselves  in  a  cottage  on  the  banks  of  Lick  Creek,  which 
at  this  point  made   a  long  bend  in   an   easterly  direction,  away  from  Shiloh 
Church,  the  center  of  both  Federal  and  Confederate  military  activity. 

All  day,  the  tramp  of  the  infantry — the  rumbling  of  the  artillery  over  the 
bark  roads,  as  the  different  commands  made  their  way  to  points  selected  by 
Beauregard  himself — the  hoofs  of  the  cavalry  in  the  direction  of  Monterey,  as; 


8  BIGHT   OR  WRONG;    A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

they  followed  the  movements  of  Breckenridge 's  and  Hardee's  divisions,  all 
brought  terror  to  the  three  women,  while  each,  by  pretending  to  follow  her 
usual  occupation,  tried  to  reassure  the  others. 

Mrs.  Levillier  sat  in  a  low  rocker,  overlooking  the  household  linen,  but  her 
hands  were  oftener  crossed  idly  on  her  lap,  while  the  repressed  tears  in  her 
dark  eyes  emphasized  her  attitude  of  quiet  resignation  to  the  inevitable.  Mrs. 
Levillier  showed  in  her  small  stature,  her  delicate  hands  and  feet,  her  black 
hair  and  eyes,  and  her  usual  vivaciousness,  the  admixture  of  French  and  Spanish 
blood,  of  which  she  was  so  justly  proud.  A  coward  when  those  she  loved  were 
in  danger,  she  knew  not  the  meaning  of  fear  where  the  danger  threatened  only 
herself.  It  was  this  that  had  dictated  her  answer  to  her  son  when  he  urged 
her  to  seek  safety.  In  a  word,  she  was  a  perfect  type  of  that  noble  race, 
brave,  ambitioiis,  intellectual,  whose  watchword  was  duty,  the  old 
race  of  Louisiana  Creoles.* 

Laurita,  shortened  by  loving  friends  into  Rita,  was  a  blonde  counterpart 
of  her  mother.  Her  eyes  were  grey,  but  when  she  was  moved  by  strong 
emotion  they  gave  the  impression  of  being  no  less  dark  than  her  mother's. 
Every  clear  cut  feather  reflected  her  passing  mood,  changing  swiftly  from 
"grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe."  Her  complexion  was  of  that  rare  and 
exquisite  tint  over  which  the  sun  seems  to  have  no  power.  She  was  quick  and 
sympathetic,  yet  often  overzealous  and  unreasoning  in  any  cause  she  espoused. 
Impulsive  and  loyal  to  a  fault  she  was  the  embodiment  of  a  bright,  happy  girl- 
hood, which  only  knows  care  through  hearsay,  yet  when  trial  comes,  rises  to  the 
heights  of  self-abnegation,  and  is  unswerving  in  the  path  of  right  and  duty. 

All  day  she  sat  bending  over  some  delicate  embroidery,  waiting  anxiously. 

*  It  is  rather  amusing  to  those  familiar  witih  the  meaning  of  the  word  "Creole,"  as  giren  in 
Webster's  Dictionary,  to  say  nothing  of  the  personal  knowledge  of  native  Louisianians,  that  a  Creole 
is  a  child  of  French  and  Spanish  parents,  bom  in  the  colonies,  to  hear  Mr.  CSible  quoted  for  the 
paeudo  "fact"  that  Creole  means  a  person  apparently  of  white  blood,  but  smeared  with  the  tar- 
brush, viz:  with  an  admixture  of  African  blood. 

Since  1803,  when  Louisiana  was  sold  to  the  United  States,  and  consequently  ceased  to  be  a 
colony,  there  are  no  true  Creoles,  but  only  their  deacendants,  until  We  have  come  to  use  the  word 
as  an  adjective  in  the  sense  of  native  to  the  manor-bom,  and  we  say  a  Creole  negro,  a  Creole  horse 
or  cow,  Creole  eggs,  etc. 


EIGHT   OR  WEONG;   A   TALE   OF   WAR  AND   FAITH.  9 

until,  just  before  Victor's  appearance,  unable  to  bear  ttie  suspense,  she 
threw  down  her  work,  and  paced  anxiously  up  and  down  the  room,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  peer  eagerly  into  the  shadowy  spaces  that  spread  in  front  of  her. 
It  was  therefore  she,  who  had  first  seen  and  hurried  to  meet  him,  even  before 
he  gave  the  first  call.  i 

Mam  Tel,  the  other  occupant  of  the  room  who  had  as  eagerly  answered 
the  young  officer's  summons,  was  a  small,  stout  woman  of  a  gingerbread  color^' 
with  rather  regular  features,  for  one  of  her  race.  It  was  not  this,  however, 
which  made  her  beautiful  in  the  eyes  of  her  mistress,  but  rather  the  impress  of 
all  those  good  qualities  which  made  her  a  faithful  servant,  a  true  and  devoted 
friend,  a  type  of  that  race,  slaves,  yet  honored  examples  of  which,  no  rara  avis 
in  the  days  of  which  we  write,  are  now  as  extinct  as  the  dodo. 

Mam  Tel  wore  her  "tignon,"  or  head  handkerchief  of  bright  madras,  tied 
in  a;n  intricate  fashion,  high  over  her  head,  a  little  back  from  her  forehead, 
displaying  on  each  side,  locks  of  well  kept  wavy  hair.  As  a  rule,  she  wore 
dresses  of  blue  guinea  prints  with  white  kerchief  and  apron,  exchanged  on  state 
occasions  and  on  Sundays  for  a  cashmere  dress,  black  silk  apron  and  lace 
kerchief. 

Her  manners  to  her  masters  were  that  strange  admixture  of  humility  and 
familiarity,  of  love,  esteem  and  deference,  which  is  indescribable  and  incon- 
ceivable to  those  who  never  witnessed  the  close  relations  of  mistress  and  maid, 
of  nurse  and  nurslings,  in  Southern  homes.  She  was  as  fond  of  Victor  and  Rita 
as  if  they  had  been  her  very  own;  often  discovering  their  little  escapades,  and 
striving  to  undo  the  mischief,  without  appeal  to  the  higher  authority  of  father 
or  mother,  as  long  as  it  was  a  childish  fault  that  in  no  way  trespassed  on  morals 
or  was  likely  to  affect  their  future  either  physically  or  morally,  but  inexorable 
in  her  chiding  at  any  infringement  of  her  code  of  ethics,  strictly  modeled  on 
that  of  her  superiors. 

On  the  other  hand,  her  authority  over  the  children  was  never  questioned  by 
them  or  their  parents.  Her  word  was  also  absolute  over  the  other  slaves  of 
the  household,  the  younger  ones  being  initiated  by  her  into  the  mysteries  of 
Creole  cooking,  in  which  she  excelled,  and  in  the  proper  doing  up  of  household 


10  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

linen  and  dainty  garments.  To  her  tbey  came  as  pupils,  and  none  had  reason 
to  complain  who  gave  the  proper  attention  to  her  instructions;  and,  with  rare 
perception,  she  quickly  decided  the  department  of  the  household  to  which  they 
were  best  fitted. 

To  her  were  entrusted  all  the  valuables,  whether  intrinsic  or  sentimental. 
In  a  word,  her  authority  was  absolute,  subject  to  no  question  except  by  master 
or  mistress,  who  felt  for  her  an  affection  that  time  had  only  increased  and 
strengthened.  Therefore,  when  the  question  of  following  Victor  became  para- 
mount to  everything  else.  Mam  Tel,  asking  no  question,  ready  to  share  the 
fortunes  of  war  with  those  she  loved,  prepared  her  own  belongings  as  well  as 
those  of  Mrs.  Levillier  and  Rita. 

If  Mam  Tel  was  startled  by  the  plain  surroundings  by  which  she  saw  her 
mistress  so  suddenly  encompassed,  and  to  which,  truth  to  tell,  she  herself  was 
little  accustomed,  she  said  nothing,  but  went  to  work  to  make  the  room  that 
mother  and  daughter  occupied,  as  bright  and  comfortable  as  possible,  and  refused 
any  other  accommodations  for  herself  than  a  pallet  on  the  floor  of  an  adjoining 
closet,  declaring  that  she  could  not  sleep  if  she  thought  her  mistress  might 
need  her  during  the  night.  She  probably  knew  nothing  of  the  causes  of  the 
war,  that  was  eventually  to  free  her  race,  and  cared  only  for  the  discomforts 
and  suffering  of  the  people  she  loved,  and  hated  the  "Yankees,"  as  she  called 
them,  as  the  cause  of  all  this  change  and  misery. 

She  shared,  in  common  with  all  negroes,  an  utter  contempt  for  ' '  poor 
white  trash,"  but  with  her  this  meant  not  so  much  lack  of  money,  as  of  pedigree, 
and  it  needed  all  Mrs.  Levillier 's  express  command  to  restrain  her  open  contempt 
and  disapproval  of  the  primitive  manners  of  the  good  woman,  in  whose  clean, 
if  plain  home,  Mrs.  Levillier  was  only  too  glad  to  find  shelter. 

Mrs.  Frawley  had  not  been  blind  to  this  antagonism,  nor  slow  to  resent  it, 
in  a  covert  way,  once  confiding  to  a  neighbor  that  she  had  no  use  for  a 
"nigger"  who  put  on  more  airs  than  her  madam,  and  wanted  to  teach  her  how 
to  cook. 

Lately  the  latter  point  had  evidently  been  conceded,  and  Mrs.  Levillier 
was  a  little  at  a  loss  to  account  for  this  change,  until  one  evening  the  same 


EIGHT   OE  WEONG;   A   TALE   OF   WAE  AND  FAITH.  H 

neighbor  called,  and  asked  Mrs.  Frawley,  in  a  voice  subdued  to  a  stage  whisper, 
and  which  was  easily  heard  by  Mrs.  Levillier,  sitting  on  the  front  gallery, 
"Well,  sister  Frawley,  how's  you  and  that  sassy  nigger  making  out  now?" 

"Not  as  bad  as  we  uster  was,  sister  Brown.  I  tell  you  she  can  make  some- 
thing out  of  nothing,  better 'n  anybody  you  ever  did  see.  .  She  takes  them  big 
bull  frogs  and  mud  turtles,  and  makes  a  cooking  up  that  do  taste  first  rate. 
And  she  went  off  the  other  day,  and  gathered  up  a  lot  of  weeds,  such  as  pursley 
and  sassafras  leaves,  and  if  she  didn't  make  something  that  tasted  just  as  good 
as  pork  and  greens." 

"Ain't  you  feared  to  eat  them  messes?" 

"I  was  at  first,  but  when  I  saw  her  madam  and  herself  eat  them,  I  knowed 
there  wasn't  nothing  agoing  to  hurt  me,  so  I  tried  a  little  bit,  and  I'm  sure 
I  aint  sorry  for  it  these  hard  times.  And  she  can  make  the  beatenest  biscuits 
without  salaratus!  and  such  coffee!  I  tell  you  sister  Brown,  the  grounds  that 
nigger  leaves  in  that  coffee  pot  of  theirs  makes  me  a  fine  lot  of  biled  coffee 
with  just  tke  help  of  a  little  parched  taters." 

"Seems  to  me  they  could  give  you  some  of  their 's,"  grumbled  sister* 
Brown. 

* '  Well,  now,  they 's  open  handed  with  their  stuff,  but  t  'aint  nat  'ral  to  think 
they  can  give  enough  to  give  Ike  and  his  friends  all  they  wants,  when  they 
can  get  off  from  sojering.  Ike'd  have  too  many  friends,  if  it  wasn't  that  the 
Madame  is  a  great  friend  of  the  General  and  all  the  big  folks,  and  most  every 
day  some  officer  drops  in  to  dinner,  and  skeers  the  boys  off — for  which  I'm 
mighty  thankful.  The  old  woman  says  they're  big  people  down  in  Orleans 
and  I  don't  mistrust  it,  for  the  pile  of  stuff  that  comes  up  here  every  week 
would  'stonish  you,  sure." 

"Well,  may  be  they  is  real  ladies,  after  all,  though  they  don't  seem  to 
visit  around  much,"  and  sister  Brown  made  her  adieus. 


RIGHT   OR  WRONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTER  n. 

All  day,  on  that  eventful  6th  of  April,  the  roar  and  din  of  battle  came 
to  the  occupants  of  Mrs.  Frawley's  cottage.  The  air  was  filled  with  smoke, 
shutting  off  the  view  in  the  direction  of  the  battlefield.  Shot  and  shell  hissed, 
shrieked,  and  crossed  each  other  from  opposing  batteries.  A  thousand  yards 
away,  they  heard  the  clash  of  Bragg 's  and  Anderson's  divisions,  and  the  cat 
like  call  of  the  Minnie  ball  could  be  distinguished,  as  a  stray  bullet  buried 
itself  in  the  surrounding  trees,  not  a  hundred  yards  away. 

Mrs.  Levillier  was  awakened  early  by  the  first  skirmishes,  preludes  of  the 
awful  carnage  that  was  to  come.  Her  first  care  was  to  kneel,  with  Rita  and 
Mam  Tel  in  fervent  prayer  for  her  loved  one  and  for  the  souls  of  those  who 
should  fall,  whether  friend  or  foe. 

This  done,  she  began  active  preparation  for  any  eventuality.  Her  own 
desires  were  to  remain  where  she  was,  even  if  there  was  some  danger,  but  the 
lives  of  Rita,  Mam  Tel  and  Mrs.  Frawley  might  depend  on  her  decision.  She 
therefore  ordered  the  small  skiff,  in  which  Rita  often  rowed  up  and  down  the 
Lick  in  search  of  sport,  to  be  stored  with  provisions,  and  such  change  of  apparel 
as  was  likely  to  prove  useful. 

Next,  she  turned  her  attention  to  the  arrangement  of  the  house.  Cots, 
which  she  had  ordered,  were  placed  in  the  small  sitting  room  and  spare  mat- 
tresses spread  over  them.  In  the  dining  room,  another  was  rolled  carefully  and 
placed  in  a  corner  ready  to  be  thrown  on  the  table  should  necessity  occur. 
Piles  of  clean  bed  linen  were  put,  together  with  undergarments,  ready  to  hand, 
and  last,  but  not  less  important,  on  a  small  table  was  the  lint  and  rolls  of 
bandages  they  had  prepared  in  many  a  leisure  hour.  In  a  word,  she  gradually 
converted  the  house  into  a  much  better  hospital  than  those  hastily  erected  on  the 
field;  for  Mrs.  Levillier  was  an  expert  nurse,  and  though  she  would  not  admit  to 
herself  the  possibility  of  Victor's  need  of  such  preparations,  she  was  too  sen- 
sible a  woman  not  to  provide  against  the  contingency. 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE   OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  13. 

Mrs.  Frawley,  a  tall,  raw-boned  woman,  had  been  up  early,  and  was  trying 
to  follow  the  daily  routine,  but  showed  her  nervousness  by  beginning  a  half  a 
dozen  tasks  and  completing  none.  Whenever  Mam  Tel  could  spare  a  moment, 
she  would  give  a  hand,  in  the  hope  of  getting  some  breakfast  for  her  mistress,, 
but  it  proved  uphill  work.  As  the  day  advanced,  Mrs.  Frawley 's  nervousness, 
increased.  She  paced  the  floor,  wringing  her  hands  at  one  time,  the  next  sitting' 
and  rocking  violently  to  and  fro,  throwing  her  apron  over  her  head,  and  press- 
ing her  hands  over  her  ears,  in  the  vain  endeavor  of  shutting  out  the  fearful 
tumult  of  the  carnage  that  was  taking  place,  and  in  which  she  saw  Ike,  her 
only  son,  a  member  of  the  home  company,  in  a  Tennessee  regiment,  the  target 
for  every  shot. 

At  times  she  would  break  out  in  some  weird  songs,  learned  at  camp  meet- 
ings. These  in  turn  were  followed  by  ejaeulatory  prayers  for  God's  mercy.  In  vain 
Mrs.  Levillier,  and  even  Mam  Tel,  tried  to  calm  her  fears  and  inspire  her  with 
some  of  their  own  courage  and  resignation,  urging  that,  in  occupation,  she 
would  find  solace  and  strength. 

To  all  she  turned  a  deaf  ear  and  finally  exclaimed,  "I  tell  you  I  never  did 
have  any  use  for  no  guns  even  if  'twan't  nothing  but  birds  and  wild  things 
they  was  a  shooting  at,  then  how  kin  I  be  quiet  and  them  a  shooting  at  my 
Ike,  and  you  a  preaching  at  me.  Anybody  can  see  't  ain't  none  of  your  flesh 
and  blood,"  was  her  reply  to  Mam  Tel's  soft  words. 

"Mars  Victor  is  as  dear  to  me  as  if  he  was  my  own,  but  if  Mr.  Ike  is 
going  to  get  hurt,  you  ought  to  be  ready  to  do  for  him.  That's  what  my  madam 
is  doing." 

It  was  just  at  this  point  that  a  shell  came  screaming  in  the  direction  of 
the  house,  crashing  through  the  trees,  tearing  and  rending  them  as  it  exploded, 
and  scattering  its  death-dealing  missiles  in  every  direction.  A  few  scattering 
pieces  pattered  against  the  fence  and  even  on  the  front  of  the  house. 

Eita  clung  in  terror  to  her  mother,  and  Mam  Tel  turned  an  ashy  hue,  while 
Mrs.  Frawley,  beside  herself  with  fear,  cried,  "Oh,  Madam,  let  us  get  away  from 
here!  Let  us  cross  the  creek  as  your  son  told  us  to  do!  Come,  afore  we're  all 
killed,  or  I  will  never  see  my  Ike  again  even  if  they  haven't  shot  him  dead 
afore  this! " 


14  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

Mam  Tel  and  Rita  added  their  appeal  to  those  of  Mrs.  Frawley.  Mrs. 
Levillier  alone  remained  calm. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "the  greatest  danger  is  probably  over,  for  it  seems 
to  me  the  shouts  and  firing  are  becoming  less  distinct,  as  if  the  troops  were 
going  towards  the  Tennessee  Eiver.  That  last  shell  was,  I  suspect,  the  last  shot 
fired  haphazard  by  a  retreating  force.  However,  Rita,  you  can  row  Mam  Tel 
and  Mrs.  Frawley  across,  and  Mrs.  Frawley  will  guide  you  to  Mrs.  Atkins." 

"E't  ca  va  pe'  fais?"  (And  what  will  you  do?)  said  Mam  Tel,  lapsing  into 
her  patois,  while  Rita  threw  her  arms  around  her  mother,  exclaiming,  ' '  What, 
leave  you!  That  is  impossible!  After  all,  I'm  not  afraid  now,  it  was  the 
suddenness  of  the  thing  that  startled  me.  The  next  will  find  me  more  pre- 
pared. ' ' 

As  Mrs.  Levillier  predicted,  the  sounds  continued  to  grow  fainter  and  more 
distant,  until  as  the  shadows  of  night  fell,  only  an  occasional  volley  or  shot 
told  that  the  passions  of  the  combatants  were  assuaged,  if  not  entirely  allayed. 

As  night  fell,  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  a  fine  drizzle,  which  soon  inereaseo 
to  a  steady  downpour.  Mrs.  Levillier  decided  that  the  lamps  should  not  be 
lit,  lest  the  light  should  attract  stragglers  from  either  army  that  might  pas9 
that  way.  The  anxiety  and  labors  of  the  day  were  beginning  to  tell  on  ail. 
They  had  heard  nothing  from  Victor,  and  the  enforced  idleness  left  time  for 
doubts  and  fears.  In  vain  Mrs.  Levillier  reasoned  that  bad  news  travels  fast, 
and  that  some  friend  would  find  time  to  let  her  know  if  the  worst  had  happened, 
and  if  Victor  was  wounded,  she  knew  he  would  be  sent  to  her. 

Suddenly  there  were  footsteps  on  the  gallery,  and  Mrs.  Levillier  cautiously 
looked  out.  A  man  pushed  staggeringly  past  her,  and  a  voice  exclaimed,  ' '  Gooii 
Lord,  but  it's  good  to  be  home  once  more!" 

Though  changed  somewhat,  they  all  instinctively  recognized  Ike's  voice. 
Mrs.  Frawley  threw  herself,  in  an  ecstaey  of  joy,  on  his  breast.  "Look  out, 
Mammy,  I'se  mighty  touchy  jest  now!"  he  said,  as  he  gently  pushed  her  away, 
and  as  the  light  from  the  lamp  Mam  Tel  had  lit  fell  on  him,  all  saw  that  one 
arm  was  bandaged  as  only  a  surgeon  could.  His  butternut  uniform  was  soaked 
with  rain  and  blood.    He  was  evidently  weak,  and  staggered  as  he  walked. 


EIGHT   OK   WEONG;   A   TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  15 

Mrs.  Frawley  suddenly  released  her  hold  on  him  and  began  crying 
hysterically,  "Oh,  my  boy!     My  poor  boy!" 

Mrs.  Levillier  approached  quietly  and  said  soothingly: 

"You  have  been  wounded,  I  see,  but  your  wound  has  already  been  dressed. 
Come,  Mrs.  Frawley,  let  us  get  your  son  to  bed.  Dry  clothes  and  sleep  are 
now  what  he  needs." 

"That's  right.  Ma'am!  Mammy,  instead  of  agoing  on  like  that,  you  oughlj 
to  be  glad  I  ain't  a  lying  out  there  like  many  another  mother's  son,  or  else  so 
badly  used  up  I  couldn't  even  crawl  here.  You  know.  Mam,"  to  Mrs.  Levillier, 
"1  was  pulling  trigger  'thout  knowing  much  what  I  was  a  shooting  at,  when 
along  comes  a  bullet  a  'meowing  at  a  beautiful  rate,  and  zip!  it  just  ploughed 
up  my  arm  and  out  at  the  shoulder,  taking  big  gobs  of  flesh,  but  never  breaking 
nary  bone  nor  nothing,  but  I  wasn't  no  use  after  that,  so  they  sent  me  back 
to  the  place  where  the  doctors  were  hard  at  work  on  the  poor  fellows — and  I 
tell  you.  Mam,  the  place  made  me  sick.  After  a  while  it  come  my  turn  and  a 
young  doctor  gets  a  holt  of  me  and  'twant  long  before  he  had  me  fixed  all 
right,'  and  says  I,  'Doc,  my  mammy  lives  close  to  here  and  she'll  take  care  of 
me,'  and  he  says,  'All  the  better,  there'll  be  room  for  one  more,  worse  hurt 
than  you.'  So  I  gets  out  and  here  I  am,  if  'twas  slow  work.  So,  mammy,  give 
me  a  drink  of  milk  and  put  me  to  bed." 

Eita,  in  the  meantime,  had  been  looking  eagerly  out  in  the  darkness,  hoping 
that  Victor  might  come  as  he  had  the  evening  before.  Her  heart  was  full  of  fore- 
bodings. Ike's  pale  face  and  Mrs.  Frawley 's  uncontrolled  grief  had  done  much 
to  upset  her  self-control. 

Suddenly  a  faint  glimmer  attracted  her  attention,  and  in  an  instant,  her 
eyes  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  made  out  a  group  advancing  slowly.  By  the 
light  carried  by  some  one,  just  ahead  of  the  others,  she  saw  that  they  were 
soldiers,  and  bore,  on  rude  stretchers,  formed  by  their  guns,  two  motionless 
figures. 

With  a  cry  that  brought  Mrs.  Levillier  and  Mam  Tel,  she  ran  to  meet  the 
coming  cortege,  and  reached  it  just  as  it  entered  the  gate. 

With  the  cry  "Victor!     Victor!"  she  was  about  throwing  herself  on  the 


16  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A   TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

first  body,  when  she  was  restrained  gently  by  the  man  who  carried  the  lantern. 
"My  child,  that  is  not  Victor;  Victor  is  unhurt." 

Mrs.  Levillier  caught  the  assurance  of  Victor's  safety  and  quickly  turn- 
ing, she  gave  some  orders  to  Mam  Tel,  and  threw  the  doors  open  to  allow  the 
passage  of  the  stretchers  and  their  insensible  burdens. 

With  the  aid  of  the  bearers,  the  clothing  of  the  unconscious  men  were  soon 
exchanged  for  the  clean,  dry  ones  prepared  for  them  by  Mrs.  Levillier.  A  word 
from  her  had  sent  Rita  to  prepare  coffee  for  those  who  had  fought  all  day,  yet 
were  now  uncomplainingly  on  their  rounds  of  mercy  and  had  converted  their 
weapons,  if  not  into  ploughshares  and  reaping  hooks,  at  least  into  means  of 
rescue  for  the  unfortunate. 

Their  leader,  a  thin,  delicate  looking  man,  was  dressed  in  such  sorry  fashion 
as  might  easily  serve  as  an  outfit  for  a  scarecrow.  On  his  black  hair  he  wore 
no  hat,  and  his  clothing,  as  well  as  face,  were  bespattered  with  mud  and  blood, 
though  he  was  not  wounded,  yet  the  dignity  of  his  calling  was  in  no  way  marred 
by  the  disorder  of  his  vesture,  and  from  his  dark  eyes  shone  a  soul  of  such 
exquisite  beauty  that  charity  seemed  to  radiate  from  every  feature. 

•  Father  Turgis,  for  he  it  was,  had  that  day  received  his  baptism  of  fire. 
Ever  at  the  front,  he  was  ready  to  assist  the  wounded,  or  cheer  the  parting 
soul  with  his  priestly  ministration,  and  many  a  poor  fellow  had  died  in  his  arms, 
while  whispering  messages  for  loved  ones  at  home,  or  asking  forgiveness  for 
perchance  a  life  misspent.  Chaplain  of  the  Orleans  Guards  in  name,  he  was 
chaplain  and  friend  to  every  boy  in  grey  and  more  particularly  to  those  who 
claimed  his  beloved  adopted  State  as  their  home.  He  had  all  the  sturdy  virtues  of 
his  Breton  blood,  but  charity  seemed  to  overshadow  every  other.  Constantly 
supplied  with  clothing  by  the  mothers  of  the  boys  under  his  care,  it  was  no 
sooner  in  his  possession  than  it  was  transferred  to  those  others  who  had  none 
to  provide  for  them.  The  open  cassock  at  the  throat  showed  only  too  plainly 
that  the  last  remnant  of  his  linen  had  found  its  way  into  the  keeping  of  one 
whom  he  deemed  more  needy  than  himself. 

In  after  years,  he  never  lost  that  boundless  charity.  His  old  comrades 
never  appealed  to  him  in  vain,  and  those  who  made  it  a  labor  of  love  to  see 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  17 

to  his  few  wants,  were  often  amused  at  the  efforts  he  made  to  conceal  the  fact 
that  the  new  garments  had  vanished,  and  that  the  tattered  remnants  of  the  old, 
were  made  to  do  duty  once  more. 

When  Mrs.  Levillier  was  satisfied  that  her  charges  were  as  comfortable  as 
circumstances  permitted  she  said  to  Father  Turgis,  "Can  you  give  me  any  further 
news  of  my  boy,  Father,  than  the  thrice  welcome  one  of  his  safety?" 

''Only  that  he  bore  himself  as  you  would  expect  your  son  to  do.  Father 
Brinkhoft  was  killed  almost  alongside  of  him,  but  he  never  flinched  in  his 
work  all  day  yesterday,  and  to-night  he  is  in  charge  of  those  who  are  burying 
the  dead,  and  caring  for  such  as  living,  yet  wounded,  are  still  on  the  battle- 
field. Many  of  my  dear  boys  are  dead,  many  more,  grievously  wounded.  The 
tide  of  battle  has  gone  in  our  favor.  Our  troops  are  brave  but  undisciplined. 
The  Federals  are,  I  understand,  receiving  more  reinforcements,  and  I  know  not 
what  the  morrow  may  bring." 

Eita  here  interrupted,  "Father,  who  are  those  officers  you  have  brought; 
to  what  regiments  do  they  belong?" 

"They  are  Federal  officers,  left  for  dead,  as  our  victorious  troops  pursued 
their  retreating  forces." 

"Federal  officers!  Oh!  Father,  why  did  you  not  bring  some  of  our  own 
boys!  I  don't  want  to  care  for  these,  our  enemies,  when  our  own  need  all  wo 
can  give." 

"Child,  child!  The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained!  The  good  Samaritan 
asked  not  who  was  he  who  stood  in  need  of  help.  These  men  are  grievously 
hurt.  We  cannot  spare  surgeons,  and  our  hospitals  are  overcrowded,  and  to 
your  care  they  may  owe  their  lives.  I  know  you  will  do  your  best,"  and  he 
laid  his  hand  in  benison  on  the  girl's  bowed  head,  and  without  another  word, 
he  and  his  bearers  went  once  more  on  their  mission  of  mercy. 

Eita  had  bowed  in  acquiescence  to  her  beloved  pastor's  exhortation,  but  in 
her  rebellious  heart,  she  only  half  responded  to  his  injunctions. 

Mrs.  Levillier 's  first  care  had  been,  with  the  help  of  the  men,  to  get  her 
patients  to  bed;  her  next,  to  examine  their  wounds.  The  younger  of  the  two, 
whose  similarity  to  Victor  had,  in  the  half  light  deceived  Eita,  showed  an  ugly 


18  EIGHT  OK  WRONG;   A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

bullet  hole  in  the  head  just  at  the  junction  of  the  frontal  bone  with  the  parietal, 
•which  seemed  to  extend  in  both  directions  in  a  great  welt,  red  and  swollen. 
iWith  gentle,  yet  dexterous  touch,  Mrs.  Levillier  cut  away  the  dark  hair  full 
of  blood  clots,  and  with  soft  touches,  bathed  the  bruised  and  torn  parts.  Her  task 
accomplished,  she  called  Rita. 

"Here,  my  child,  sit  here  and  keep  the  bandages  saturated  with  this  lotion. 
Wounded  as  he  is,  the  wonder  is  that  he  still  survives.  Perhaps  to-morrow  1 
may  be  able  to  see  what  puzzles  me  to-night.    We  must,  however,  do  our  best." 

On  the  other  cot  was  stretched  the  form  of  a  rather  tall,  well-proportioned 
man.  A  deep,  ugly  cut  across  the  chest,  told  eloquently  that  he  had  been  cut 
down  in  a  cavalry  charge,  but  scarcely  explained  his  unconscious  condition. 
The  fine  face,  shaded  by  close  curling  hair,  was  stained  by  the  dust  and  dirt 
of  the  earth,  yet  showed  no  wound,  but  as  Mrs.  Levillier  studied  the  bruises 
about  the  body,  she  knew  instinctively  that  he  had  either  fallen  under  his  horse, 
or  had  been  trampled  upon  by  another.  The  right  leg  was  in  such  a  distorted 
position  that  her  quick  eye  detected  that  something  was  wrong,  and  examinatioa 
confirmed  her  worst  fears.  The  leg  was  broken,  not  by  a  bullet  but  by  the 
weight  of  some  heavy  object. 

For  a  moment  Mrs.  Levillier  was  nonplussed.  She  had  often  seen  on  the 
plantation  the  doctor  set  the  limbs  of  young  and  old  who  might  have  broken 
leg  or  arm,  but  she  had  little  confidence  in  her  own  ability  to  do  likewise. 
Father  Turgis  had  said  that  no  surgeon  was  accessible.  What  was  to  be  done? 
Delays,  in  such  cases,  she  knew  were  dangerous.  Her  choice  was  soon  made. 
Summoning  Mam  Tel,  she  gathered  together  the  necessary  accessories,  and,  with 
the  latter 's  assistance,  she  deftly  put  her  knowledge  into  practice,  and  soon  tho 
injured  leg  was  set,  splinted  and  bandaged. 

She  was  soon  rewarded  by  seeing  the  blue  eyes  of  her  patient  open,  and  saw, 
rather  than  heard,  the  parched  lips  frame  the  word,  "water."  His  thirst  al- 
leviated by  a  copious  draught  of  cool  spring  water,  he  asked  in  a  scarcely 
audible  voice,  "Where  arii  I?" 

Mrs.  Levillier  smiled.  "In  the  hands  of  the  enemy,"  she  replied,  "yet 
among  friends  of  the  suffering.    Do  not  worry,"  she  added,  as  she  saw  the  look 


EIGHT   OE   WEONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAE   AND   FAITH,  1» 

of  anxiety  on  his  face,  "Give  me  your  name,  and  I  will  see  to  it  that  you  get 
a  parole.    You  shall  remain  my  prisoner  as  long  as  you  need  my  care." 

"Mare  Kendrick,  Major  of  the  1st.  Pennsylvania  Cavalry,"  he  murmured. 

Eita,  meantime,  performed  her  alloted  task,  changing  the  cool  cloths  on  the 
head  of  the  sufferer.  Suddenly  the  thought  came  to  her.  "This  man  may  die 
at  any  moment;  he  may  never  have  been  baptized,"  and  impulsively  she  threW' 
some  cool  water  in  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  head,  repeating  the  words  she 
had  learned  in  her  childhood,  "I  baptize  thee,  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and 
of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  Amen." 

Mam  Tel,  relieved  of  attending  on  Mrs.  Levillier,  went  promptly  to  work 
to  remove  the  wet,  blood-soaked  clothing.  As  she  lifted  one  of  the  garments, 
her  eye  fell  on  a  piece  of  tape  neatly  sewed  on  the  collar.  She  held  it  up  for 
Mrs.  Levillier 's  inspection,  who  read: 

"James  Hay  ward,  Capt.  13th  Mass.  Eegiment!"  "That  must  be  the  name 
of  the  other  poor  fellow,"  she  said,  pityingly. 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTER  III. 

"€a  va  pe'  fais,  Mamselle  Rita?"  (What  are  you  doing  Miss  Rita?) 
Mam  Tel  always  called  Rita  "Mo  Piti"  (ray  little  one)  except  when  she 
had  done  something  of  which  her  parents  or  Mam  Tel  herself  disapproved.  Rita, 
therefore,  knew  in  this  instance  that  there  was  something  amiss,  and  perhaps 
shrewdly  suspected  that  her  friendly  manners  with  the  two  Federal  officers  had 
probably  incurred  Mam  Tel's  displeasure,  there  was  therefore  a  certain  lack  of 
candor  in  the  query. 

"Well,  what   have   I   done   now?" 

* '  You  know  very  well,  Miss  Rita.  You  know  neither  your  father  nor  brother 
would  think  it  right  for  you  to  be  laughing  and  joking  and  rolling  your  eyes 
up  and  down,  first  at  Major  Kendrick,  then  at  Captain  Hayward.  It  does  look 
awful  for  a  young  lady  like  you  to  be  flirting  with  two  young  men,  who  come 
from  nobody  knows  where,  and  who  she  ought  to  treat  like  what  they  are,  the 
enemies  of  her  country." 

"Father  Turgis  said  I  was  to  be  kind  to  my  enemies,"  Rita  replied  mis- 
chievously, "and  I'm  only  trying  to  make  time  pleasant  for  them  until  they  are 
exchanged — I'm  sure  there's  no  harm  in  that." 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  Mam  Tel  replied  dubiously,  "but  all  the  same  I'm 
worried.  Your  pa,  would  turn  in  his  grave  if  he  thought  you  could  be  thinking 
of  marrying  somebody  who  may  be  a  nobody,  just  because,  for  charity's  sake, 
you  helped  nurse  them.    I  don't  know  what  your  ma  is  thinking  about!  " 

The  two  stood  on  the  front  gallery,  close  to  the  room  occupied  by  the  two 
prisoners.  The  conversation  was  carried  on  in  patois.  Mam  Tel  was  in  terrible 
earnest,  Rita  in  a  badgering  mood.  The  idea  of  marriage  with  either  had  never 
occurred  to  her.  Full  of  life  and  vivacity,  and  thrown  into  such  intimate  rela- 
tions with  the  two  young  men,  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  assume  an  aloofness 
she  had  not  felt,  since  she  expressed  the  first  regret  that  their  care  should  be 
given  to  aliens  instead  of  friends. 


RIGHT   OR  WRONG;   A   TALE   OF  WAR  AND   FAITH.  21 

Captain  Hayward's  wounds,  on  examination,  the  day  after  the  battle,  had 
proved  far  from  serious,  though  extremely  curious.  A  spent  ball  had  struck  him 
just  above  the  frontal  bone,  circled  the  skull,  and  emerged  close  to  where  it  had 
entered,  making  an  ugly-looking  flesh  wound  and  stunning  him  for  several  hours. 
But,  ugly  as  it  looked,  it  soon  yielded  to  simple  treatment.  True  to  her  promise, 
Mrs.  Levillier,  through  Father  Turgis,  had  obtained  a  parole  for  both.  For  the 
present,  she  found  it  impossible  to  leave  Mrs.  Frawley's  house  to  follow  Victor 
in  the  face  of  the  uncertainty  of  the  movements  of  the  army  after  the  reverses 
of  the  second  day's  battle  that  had  so  completely  nullified  the  victory  of  the 
previous  day.  Major  Kendrick  was  still  helpless.  The  fractured  leg,  knitting 
as  quickly  as  could  be  expected,  still  kept  him  confined  to  his  room,  while  Captain 
Hayward  was  now  fully  recovered  and  enjoyed  every  movement  of  his  enforced 
inactivity  in  the  pleasant  study  of  the  bright,  lovely  girl  chance  had  brought 
in  his  way.  He  could  not,  however,  in  his  self -communings,  feel  that  he  made 
any  progress  in  her  favor.  She  read,  sang,  played  with  equal  impartiality  for 
him  or  the  Major.  The  latter  seemed  unwilling  to  discuss  her  in  any  way,  con- 
sequently he  was  totally  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  the  Major  shared  his  admira- 
tion for  their  pretty  nurse,  and  no  effort  on  his  part  had  been  rewarded  with  any 
admission  of  his  feelings,  one  way  or  the  other,  until  this  present  instant  the 
Major's  face  suddenly  became  dark  with  anger  or  disapproval  as  Rita,  sobered 
by  Mam  Tel's  allusion  to  her  father,  said  in  French: 

"Do  not  fear  for  me.  Mam  Tel.  Both  you  and  Mamma  can  rest  easy,  for 
I  will  promise  you  that  I  will  never  marry  either  Major  Kendrick  or  Captain 
Hayward  unless  one  or  the  other  is  prepared  to  become  a  Catholic  and  resign 
his  commission  in  the  army,"  and  amused  by  the  very  absurdity  of  the  condi- 
tions, Rita  broke  out  into  that  clear,  wholesome,  infectious  laughter  that  can 
only  come  to  the  lips  of  those  to  whom  sorrow,  repentance  and  care  are  un- 
known. 

Still  laughing  at  Mam  Tel's  useless  warning,  Rita  turned  at  the  open  door 
to  resume  the  reading  that  had  become  her  daily  task  since  Major  Kendrick 's 
wounds  had  allowed  it,  and  met  a  frown  of  disproval  on  the  Major's  face,  while 
an  amused  smile  played  around  the  corners  of  Captain  Hayward 's  mouth. 


22  EIGHT  OR   WRONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAR   AND  FAITH. 

"Let  us  have  the  benefit  of  the  joke,  MiS8  Ritaf"  was  Captain  Hajward'a 

greeting, 

"No  indeed,  it's  too  good  to  share  with  anybody,"  Eita  laughingly  replied. 
"By  the  way,  I  don't  believe  you'd  think  it  half  so  funny  if  you  only  knew." 

"Try  us  and  let  us  be  the  judges." 

"Nay,  nay,"  and  again  Eita  laughed  merrily. 

Then  suddenly  Major  Kendrick's  frowning  face  and  the  lurking  smile  in  the 
Captain's  eyes,  hushed  the  laughter  on  her  lips.  It  had  never  occurred  to  her 
to  ask  the  young  men  if  either  understood  French,  and  all  at  once  the  bare 
thought  that  either  had  understood  her  last  words  to  Mam  Tel  brought  such 
confusion  that  she  scarcely  read  intelligently,  and  finally  throwing  down  the 
book,  she  asked  abruptly: 

"Do  you  understand  French,  Captain  Hayward?" 

"Well,"  he  said  drawling  the  words  out  purposely,  "you  know  there's 
French  and  French.  I  was  considered  a  fair  French  scholar  at  college  and 
tiattered  myself  I  could  hold  my  own  in  a  French  salon  as  well  as  the  next, 
but  your  mother's  and  your  own  voluble  torrent  of  French  has  completely 
robbed  me  of  the  sweet  illusion,  and  if  in  the  avalanche  of  words  I  catch  an 
estray  now  and  then,  I  am  content, — but  in  all  truth,  your  French  is  beyond 
me,  and  as  to  your  jargon,  it  is  as  unintelligible  as  Sanscrit  or  Choctaw  or  any 
other  unknown  tongue.    So,  you  see,  I  am  at  your  mercy.    Spare  me  if  you  can." 

"Which  shall  I  spare,  your  vanity  or  your  blushes?"  retorted  Eita  now  at 
her  ease  once  more. 

"My  blushes,  of  course.  I  can't  think  so  ill  of  myself  as  to  suppose  there 
could  be  any  necessity  for  caution  on  the  other  score.  But,  after  all,  your 
question  implies,  on  your  part,  the  thought  that  there  may  be  a  necessity  for 
the  practice  of  that  broad  cloak  that  covers  a  multitude  of  sins.  Pray  let  me 
alter  my  petition.  Belittle  me  in  French,  for  where  ignorance  is  bliss  t'were 
folly  to  be  wise,  but  bespeak  me  fair  in  my  mother  tongue." 

"You  should  have  reserved  the  quotation  for  the  last,  Captain  Hayward." 

"I  am  sure  Major  Kendrick  and  I  appreciate  the  compliment." 

"Major  Kendrick  was  not  under  discussion"  Eita  quickly  replied,  "he  has 
never  put  in  a  plea." 


BIGHT   OE   WEONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAK   AND   FAITH.  23 

"Hia  prayer  shall  be  answered  who  asks  for  nothing,"  misquoted  the  Major 
smilingly,  — "Captain  Hayward  is  more  likely  to  put  the  'Ask  and  you  shall 
receive '  to  the  test.    I  am  out  of  the  running. ' ' 

Major  Kendrick's  significant  looks  even  more  than  th«  words  gave  Kita 
considerable  uneasiness.  It  was  the  first  time  that  her  intercourse  with  either 
had  gone  beyond  the  most  impersonal  badinage  on  all  live  issues.  Perhaps  it 
was  self  consciousness  of  what  Mam  Tel  had  said  that  made  her  sensitive  to 
what,  after  all,  might  be  only  a  coincidence,  but  not  caring  to  probe  the  fact,  she 
quickly  resumed  her  reading,  until  Mam  Tel  announced  dinner. 

No  sooner  alone,  both  men  laughed  heartily.  Major  Kendrick  asked:  "Did 
you  understand  what  was  said  on  the  gallery?" 

"No,  for  once  I  told  the  truth,  though  I  should  have  done  the  reverse  if  it 
had  been  necessary.  Written,  I  might  have  translated  it, — spoken,  it  was  all 
Greek  to  me,  except  the  fact  that  we  were  evidently  the  subject  of  the  dis- 
cussion." 

"Then   why  did  you  embarrass  her  by   your   meaning  smiles?" 

'  *  SiiMply  to  amuse  myself  by  leading  her  to  believe  that  I  had  really  under- 
stood the  joke  she  hugely  enjoyed.  'By  the  same  token,'  as  Sergeant  Dooley 
says,  was  it  so  uncomplimentary  that  it  brought  the  frown  on  your  classic 
features,  or  was  it  because  you,  like  myself,  failed  to  grasp  the  meaning  of  the 
whole  byplay?" 

"Not  at  all.  Miss  Levillier's  French  is  too  correct  to  be  misunderstood 
and  her  reply  gave  me  the  key  to  the  old  woman's  remonstrances." 

"I  take  it,  then,  that  it  was  far  from  complimentary  to  either  of  us." 

"Far  from  it,  for  it  showed  that  Miss  Levillier  thought  both  incapable  of 
accepting  her  ultimatum — Marriage  with  either  of  us  on  the  only  terms  she 
could  accept." 

"Nobody  asked  you.  Miss,"  hummed  the  Captain. 

"Nor  did  she  intimate  that  possibility.  The  old  woman  doesn't  hold  us  in 
high  esteem,  and  warned  her  of  her  peril,  and  her  reply  was  to  reassure  her  black 
Mammy  that  her  fears  were  entirely  groundless,  as  she  knew  neither  of  us 
would  pay  the  price,  even  to  win  the  prize,  her  own  sweet  self." 

"And  pray,  what  was  the  price?" 


24  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A   TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

"Resignation  from  the  army  and  acceptance  of  the  Catholic  faith." 
"Whewl     she  doesn't  rate  herself  high,  does  she?" 

"No  price,  save  honor,  is  too  high  to  pay  for  one  who  within  herself  holds 
the  gifts  of  beauty,  intelligence,  truth,  a  loving  heart,  and  a  soul  as  sweet  and 
pure  as  an  angel!  A  child  in  worldly  wisdom,  judging  others  by  her  own 
standards,  underestimating  her  own  value,  she  is  likely  to  fall  a  victim  to 
some  unprincipled  scoundrel,  who  will  never  appreciate  the  treasure  he  haa 
won. ' ' 

"Perhaps  Major  Kendrick  can  save  her  from  such  a  fate,"  eneeringly 
remarked  the  Captain. 

For  a  moment  Major  Kendrick 'b  face  gr«w  dark  with  anger,  then  he 
quietly  replied. 

"There,  let  the  subject  drop  once  and  for  all.  By  every  instinct  of  manly 
gratitude,  and  by  every  law  of  hospitality.  Miss  Levillier's  name  should  never 
be  the  subject  of  banter,  or  of  unfavorable  comment  between  us.  She  is  a  vis- 
ionary, an  enthusiast,  I  had  almost  said,  a  fanatic  on  the  subject  of  this  war, 
and  is  deeply  imbued  with  religious  zeal,  and  I  believe  her  capable  of  accepting 
the  terms  we  accidentally  overheard,  if  she  was  convinced  that  duty  led  the 
way,"  and  Major  Kendrick  picked  up  the  book  she  had  laid  down  with  the 
resolute  air  of  a  man  to  whom  the  subject  is  closed  for  all  time. 

Soon  after  dinner,  Rita  strolled  to  the  creek.  Mam  Tel's  words  had  brought 
her  face  to  face  with  a  question  until  then  a  closed  book. 

Despite  Captain  Hayward's  denial,  there  lingered  the  fear  that  he  had 
overheard  and  understood  her  words,  and  her  cheeks  burned  with  maiden  shame 
that  she  had  been  betrayed  into  expressing  a  willingness,  ever  so  remote,  of 
accepting  what  had  never  been  offered  to  her.  Though  she  might  never  be  put  to 
the  test,  yet  she  involuntarily  found  herself  contrasting  the  two  young  men. 

Major  Kendrick,  at  such  time  as  his  suffering  allowed  him  to  mingle  in  the 
conversation,  showed  himself  a  man  of  strong  character,  calm,  dispassionate, 
measuring  everything  by  the  rigid  and  unswerving  standard,  not  as  to  what 
was  most  expedient,  but  what  was  right.  Calm  and  deliberate  in  argument,  he 
often  treated  her  with  the  same  gentleness  and  forbearance  one  uses  to  a  way- 


•       EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  25 

ward  child,  when  out  of  perversity,  she  sought  to  uphold  some  argument  in 
opposition,  not  only  to  his,  but  to  her  own  convictions,  laughingly  admitting  her- 
self vanquished,  or  obstinately  making  the  worst  appear  the  better  reason,  for 
the  mere  pleasure  of  watching  the  varied  expressions  of  wonder  or  amusement 
with  which  every  discussion  ended.  Reviewing  his  steadfastness,  his  high 
ideals  of  honor  and  truth,  and  of  the  right  as  he  saw  it,  she  felt  safe  that  he 
would  never  take  advantage  of  her  foolinh  indiscretion,  even  if  he  had  under- 
stood her  promise  to  Mam  Tel. 

Captain  Hayward's  strong  resemblance  to  Victor  from  the  first  had  drawn 
her  to  him  as  he  lay  pale  and,  as  she  thought,  dying.  As  he  rallied  from  his 
really  slight  wound,  his  lively  boyish  temperament  accorded  so  well  with  her  own, 
that  very  soon  they  drifted  into  a  quasi  friendship,  that  in  spite  of  her  better 
judgment,  was  very  pleasant,  serving  to  while  away  many  an  hour  which,  other- 
wise, would  have  been  fraught  with  anxiety.  If,  at  times,  he  startled  her  by 
some  atheistic  opinion,  or  by  some  expressed  belief  entirely  at  variance  with  her 
code  of  morals  or  ethics,  he  quickly  atoned  for  it  by  laughingly  recanting,  and 
professing  only  to  have  triel  her  convictions,  or  by  admitting  himself  van- 
quished whenever  she  took  up  the  gauntlet. 

"You  know.  Miss  Rita,"  he  said  one  day,  "there  is  nothing  I  like  better 
than  to  bring  that  look  of  indignation  to  your  face,  and  see  those  eyes  snap  and 
shine  with  righteous  wrath.  It's  worth  painting  myself  blacker  than  I  am  to 
hear  you  defend  church  and  state  so  zealously.  You  are  a  loyal  little  girll  I 
wonder  if  you,  at  some  future  day,  will  be  as  loyal  to  the  man  you  marry." 

"Probably,"  Rita  replied,  annoyed  at  the  personal  turn  the  conversation 
had  taken.  "The  man  I  marry  will  have  won  my  respect  and  perfect  faith  as 
well  as  my  love,  consequently  that  will  be  a  matter  of  sequence,  as  fruit  fol- 
lows blossom." 

"Blossoms  brightest  are  soonest  blighted"  Captain  Hayward  said  senten- 
tiously.     "Then  what?" 

"Then  I  suppose,"  laughingly  replied  Rita,  "I  will  have  to  call  to  my 
aid  the  two  bears  of  our  escutcheon,  which  as  grandmother  always  explained 


26  EIGHT   OR   WRONG;   A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

to  me,  in  answer  to  my  insistent  childish  curiosity  as  to  their  meaning,  were 
'Bear  and  Forbear,'  two  very  essential  adjuncts  to  a  peaceful  household." 

"I  think  very  likely  you  will  have  to  practice  what  you  preach,  for  your 
idol  or  ideal  is  very  apt  to  prove  of  the  earth,  earthy,  and  not  likely  to  measure 
up  to  your  romantic  standards." 

"Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.  May  I  never  be  found  wanting 
when  the  test  comes,"  and  to  avoid  further  discussion,  Rita  had  suddenly  left 
the  room. 

As  Rita  recalled  these  incidents,  she  was  forced  to  admit  that  Major 
Kendrick's  characteristics  were  those  most  calculated  to  inspire  and  retain 
confidence,  but  after  all,  she  reasoned,  Captain  Hayward  was  as  little  likely  to 
accept  terms  of  which  he  knew  nothing  as  the  Major,  and  she  really  had  no 
right  to  judge  him  by  opinions  he  himself  claimed,  were  only  jests,  employed  to 
strike  fire  from  the  steel  of  her  indignation  and  keen  wit. 

Reassured  by  this  review  of  the  young  men's  character,  as  she  thought  she 
knew  them,  she  smilingly  retraced  her  steps,  soothed  by  the  reflection  that 
she  had  foolishl;^  attempted  to  cross  a  bridge  that  she  would  never  even  reach. 


EIGHT  OR  WEONG;   A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

"Miss  Eita,  I  am  prepared  to  pay  the  penalty." 

It  was  some  three  weeks  subsequent  to  Mam  Tel's  warning  and  Eita  had 
almost  forgotten  the  episode.  She  was  standing  in  the  yard  under  the  shadow 
of  the  immense  oak,  examining  the  pieces  of  shell  embedded  in  the  venerable 
trunk.  At  the  sound  of  the  voice,  she  turned  quickly  to  face  Captain  Hay- 
ward. 

"Oh!  Captain  Hayward,  who  can  assess  the  penalty  for  the  cruel  wounds 
to  this  venerable  giant,  hurt  almost  to  its  very  heart  by  the  ruthless  folly  of 
man!  Who  can  measure  its  grief  or  restore  its  tranquility  in  the  face  of  this 
fratricidal  war?" 

"Nay,  Miss  Eita,  I  had  no  reference  to  this  tree,  I  can  assure  you.  I  think 
you  are  begging  the  question.  However,  perhaps  it  would  be  more  correct  to 
say  that  I  am  not  only  willing  but  anxious  to  accept  those  conditions  you  de- 
clared were  a  sine  qua  non  to  the  winning  of  what  I  hold  far  more  precious  than 
life  itself." 

Eita  looked  up  quickly.    "Then  you  do  understand  French?" 

"I  told  you  the  truth.  I  did  not  understand  what  you  said,  but  Major 
Kendrick  did." 

Eita  covered  her  face,  now  aflame  with  the  blush  of  modesty  and  shame, 
with  both  hands. 

"What  must  you  both  have  thought  of  me,"  she  cried. 

"Not  one  unkind  thought,  nor  one  that  did  not  hold  you  in  deepest  rev- 
erence. ' ' 

"Can  Major  Kendrick  and  yourself  ever  overlook  my  foolish,  foolish 
speech  to  Mam  Tel?" 

"As  for  Major  Kendrick,"  Captain  Hayward  said,  stung  by  a  fierce  jeal- 
ousy that  she  should  mention  the  Major's  name  before  his,  "I  cannot  go  be- 
yond- his  spoken  word,  but  as  to  myself,  I  can  but  bless  Mam  Tel 's  fond  solicitude 


28  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A   TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

that  provoked  from  you  the  assurance  that  there  might  be  a  possibility  of  secur- 
ing my  heart's  desire,  and,  for  the  sake  of  that  hope,  I  willingly  reverse  the 
scriptural  injunction  and  gladly  accept  your  people  and  your  God.  Tell  me, 
Rita,  is  it  in  vain?" 

For  the  moment  Captain  Hayward  was  deeply  moved.  He  was  not  ignorant 
of  the  gravity  of  the  step  he  was  taking  as  far  as  his  resignation  from  the 
army  was  concerned,  but  his  was  not  the  lofty  patriotism  that  inspires  men  to 
do  and  die,  if  necessary,  for  their  fatherland.  He  had  entered  the  army  be- 
cause it  seemed  at  the  time,  the  right  thing  to  do,  and  gave  him  prestige,  but  a 
year  of  camp  life  had  sapped  his  enthusiasm  pretty  thoroughly,  and  he  wel- 
comed any  reason  that  would  take  him  back  to  ease  and  comfort,  even  though 
he  foresaw  that  the  road  might,  at  first,  be  a  little  thorny;  yet  he  was  fully 
persuaded,  and  meant  Rita  to  feel,  that  he  was  making  an  heroic  sacrifice  for  the 
sake  of  this  girl  who  baffled  all  his  theories  of  women,  and  filled  the  ideals  that 
he  once  held. 

As  to  the  religious  change  demanded,  he  scarcely  gave  it  a  thought.  Ac- 
customed as  he  was  to  the  easy  methods  of  conversion  in  the  Evangelical 
churches,  he  was  utterly  ignorant  of  the  requirements  the  Catholic  Church  makes 
of  her  catechumens,  and  thought  that  a  simple  declaration  of  his  intentions,  or 
at  most,  some  slight  ceremonial  to  which  he  could  subscribe  without  trouble, 
would  sufiS.ce. 

Bita,  on  the  other  hand,  was  profoundly  impressed  by  the  apparent  self- 
sacrifice  this  man  was  willing  to  make  for  her  sake.  Young,  impulsive,  viewing 
everything  by  the  light  of  her  inexperience,  the  situation  presented  to  her  was 
not  one  of  love  for  this  man,  but  a  feeling  of  profound  gratitude  that  she  was 
able  to  win  a  soul  for  Heaven  and  remove  a  brave  combatant  from  the  ranks 
of  her  country's  foes;  she  was,  therefore,  sorely  tempted  to  yield  to  his  pleadings, 
yet  shrank,  unaccountably  to  herself,  to  admit  it,  either  to  herself  or  to  him. 

Captain  Hayward  waited  quietly,  watching  the  varying  expressions  of  her 
face,  as  every  new  thought  and  feeling  was  mirrored  there.  He  read,  without 
effort,  wonder,  hesitation,  mistrust  of  herself  and  of  him,  and  his  confidence  in 
his  success  grew  less,  while  his  desire  was  proportionately  greater.     He  had  not 


EIGHT  OR  WEONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  29 

expected  that  she  would  yield  quickly  or  unreservedly  to  his  plea,  but  he  had 
not  anticipated  any  prolonged  resistance,  and  her  continued  silence  both  pro- 
voked and  alarmed  him. 

"What  is  it,  Rita?"  he  asked  abruptly,  "You  surely  cannot  ask  more,  nor 
mistrust  a  man  who  is  willing  to  give  such  proof  of  his  loyalty  to  you  as  that 
I  am  giving.  I  come  from  Puritan  ancestry,  and  yet  accept  the  faith  that  waa 
to  them  most  abhorrent  I  defy  any  one  to  say  that  Captain  Hay  ward  has  not 
earned  well  of  his  coumry  by  devotion  to  her  cause,  nor  borne  himself  un- 
worthily on  her  bloodiest  battle  fields,  yet  I  am  willing  to  forego  honor,  pro- 
motion, the  approval  of  men,  for  the  sake  of  the  one  woman  before  whom  I 
have  ever  stood  abashed  or  hesitant.  Are  you  such  a  child  or  such  a  heartless 
coquette  that  you  fail  to  measure  the  depth  of  such  devotion?" 

"It  is  the  very  height  and  depth  of  such  a  sacrifice  that  appals  me,  and 
makes  me  hesitate  to  accept  it,  lest  I  prove  all  unworthy,  and  that  the  day  may 
come  when  you  will  regret  it. ' ' 

"On  my  head  be  the  consequences,  my  darling!"  cried  the  Captain,  and 
without  waiting  for  a  more  formal  acceptance,  forgetting  time  and  place,  ho 
clasped  her,  despite  her  resistance,  in  his  arms.     "Promise  me,"  he  urged. 

"I  promise,"  barely  whispered  the  agitated  girl. 

"May  tno  pas  croire  ca  ma  pe  oir!  Sa  mo  dis  vous,  Mamsel  Rita!"  ("Well, 
I  can't  believe  what  I  see!  What  did  I  tell  you.  Miss  Rita?")  and  Mam  Tel, 
scarcely  restraining  her  indignation,  ran  around  the  corner  of  the  house  just  as 
Rita  disengaged  herself  from  the  Captain's  unexpected  caress. 

Mam  Tel 's  evident  disapproval  of  himself,  her  air  of  indignation  and  disgust, 
proved  too  much  for  the  Captain's  keen  sense  of  the  ridiculous,  and  he  laughed 
immoderately. 

"Why,  old  woman,  what's  the  matter  with  you-  Don't  you  approve  of 
me?"  he  asked,  after  convincing  himself  that  Rita  had  fled  precipitately. 

"No,  I  don't,  if  you  mean  to  ask  me  if  you're  good  enough  for  my  babyl 
God  didn't  give  me  any  children  of  my  own,  but  my  Madame 's  babies  have  took 
their  place,  and  I  tells  you  there  ain't  the  man  living  I  think  good  enough  for 
Mamselle  Rita." 


30  EIGHT  OR   WRONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

"Them's  my  sentiments  exactly,  so  we  -won't  quarrel  on  that  score,  old 
lady!  But  since  I  acknowledge  that  much,  suppose  you  admit  that  I'm  as 
good,  or  a  little  better  t^an  most  men,  and  that  is  about  all  you  can  expect." 

Mam  Tel  gave  a  grunt  that  might  be  acquiescence  or  denial,  then  said 
pointedly:  "The  man  that  marriea  my  child  has  to  take  me  to  look  after  her, 
for  she's  such  a  baby,  and  never  waited  on  herself  in  her  life,"  she  added  diplo- 
matically with  the  new-born  caution  that  feared  its  own  undoing,  "and  ain't 
agoing  to  do  it  now,  if  I  kin  help  it.  Some  people  can  throw  dust  in  her  eyes, 
but  mine  are  too  old  to  be  easily  fooled,"  she  added  in  a  lower  tone. 

"Oh!  that's  all  right!  I'm  willing  to  promise  anything,  if  I  can  only 
marry  your  young  mistress.  So  it's  a  bargain." 

"People  too  quick  to  make  promises  is  generally  as  quick  to  break  them," 
muttered  Mam  Tel  aa  she  left  the  smiling  Captain. 

"I  wonder  how  this  interview  with  Mam  Tel  would  tally  with  most  of  our 
northern  ideas  of  the  down  trodden  slave,"  and  again  the  absurdity  of  the 
whole  situation  moved  him  to  laughter. 

In  the  meantime,  Rita  had  sought  her  mother,  half  afraid  of  the  effect  the 
news  would  have  on  her.  Rita  had  never  before  hesitated  to  admit  her  childish 
peccadilloes  and  shared  every  thought  and  impression  of  her  girlhood  with  her 
mother,  sometimes  tenaciously  holding,  for  a  time,  to  her  own  opinions,  but  in- 
variably yielding  to  her  mother's  greater  experience.  Their  life  had,  therefore, 
been  the  ideal  one  of  maternal  and  filial  reciprocal  trust  and  affection,  and  for  the 
first  time  the  girl  felt  that  there  had  arisen  a  question  that  might,  perhaps,  lead 
to  a  parting  of  the  ways. 

"Mamma,"  Rita  whispered,  as  she  encircled  her  mother's  waist  and  hid 
her  face  on  her  mother's  neck,  "I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

"Nothing  very  naughty,  I  trust."  Mrs.  Levillier  laughingly  said  as  she 
kissed  the  upturned,  crimson  cheek. 

"That  is  as  you  will  decide,  dearest  mother." 

"Well,  what  is  it,  child?"  Mrs.  Levillier  was,  in  an  instant,  sobered  by  the 
premonition  of  coming  evil. 

"I  have  promised  to  marry  Captain  Hayward." 


EIGHT   OR  WRONG;   A   TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  31 

"Oh!  my  child,  my  darling  child!  iou  certainly  have  not  taken  such  a 
grave  step  without  proper  consideration  of  the  weighty  reasons  that  should  ap- 
peal to  your  good  sense  and  judgment  against  it?" 

Eita  remained  silent.  ' 

"What  do  you  know  of  this  man  into  whose  keeping  you  are  giving  your 
happiness,  your  future  for  good  or  evil,  your  very  life  itself?  In  worldly  wisdom 
you  are  more  of  a  child  than  even  your  years  would  warrant.  You  have  been 
sheltered  from  all  knowledge  of  the  evil  of  the  world.  What  can  you  know  of 
love,  who  until  these  strangers  came,  were  a  mere  child,  a  willing  sub  jet  to 
authority?  What  do  you  realize  of  the  cares  and  responsibilities  of  that  life, 
which,  sweetened  by  love,  is  at  best  self  sacrifice,  and  can  only  survive  the  first 
glamour  when  sustained  by  mutual  forbearance  in  small  as  in  great  matters,  for 
it  is  often  the  pinpricks  of  life,  the  narrow  details  of  daily  routine  that  try 
our  patience  and  our  tempers." 

"But,  Mamma,"  ventured  Rita,  "have  we  not  for  the  last  two  months  been 
in  daily  contact?  Have  we  not  tried  each  other  in  argument,  discussed  our  tastes 
and  inclinations,  and  found  no  such  irreconcilable  differences  as  you  seem  to 
fear." 

"Because,  probably,  you  both  were  restrained  by  social  amenities,  and  the 
feeling,  on  your  side,  that  he  was  your  guest  and,  in  one  sense,  your  prisoner; 
en  his,  that  he  owed  you  a  debt  of  gratitude  and  that,  as  he  thought  himself 
in  love  with  you,  it  behooved  him  to  appear  in  your  eyea  just  as  you  might 
wish  him  to  appear.  But  marriage  would  soon  put  an  end  to  all  such  sophistry 
and  innocent  deception.  You  would  see  things  as  they  really  exist.  Equals  in 
all  things,  yet  moving  in  different  orbits,  he  the  provider,  you  the  dispenser, 
his  the  apparently  wider  scope,  yet  yours  none  the  less  far  reaching  as  the  home- 
maker  and  the  mother  of  coming  generations.  I  know  nothing  that  illustrates 
the  separate  yet  undivided  relations  of  husband  and  wife  as  the  hands  of  the 
clock.  Moved  by  the  same  motive  power,  controlled  by  the  same  springs  of 
action,  yet  acting  in  very  distinct  paths,  one  traveling  in  a  wide  circle,  the 
other,  restricted  to  an  apparently  narrow  space,  peace  and  harmony  the  reward 
of  order  and  regularity,  confusion  and  error  when  action  goes  astray.     I  ask 


32  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

you  again,  my  child,  what  do  you  know  of  this  man,  of  his  antecedents,  his 
habits  of  life,  his  tastes,  to  say  nothing  of  his  morals  T" 

"He  resembles  my  own  brother  so  much,  Mamma,  I  feel  sure  he  must  be 
like  him  in  other  respects." 

Mrs.  Levillier  smiled  in  spite  of  the  gravity  of  the  situation.  "Those 
words  tell  me  as  nothing  else  could,  how  little  you  realize  the  true  meaning  of 
the  affection  a  woman  ought  to  feel  for  the  man  she  is  to  marry.  He  should 
stand  preeminent  in  your  heart  and  mind,  all  others  should  be  compared  to  him, 
not  he  to  them." 

"But,  Mamma,  this  love  you  talk  about,  it  seems  to  me,  ought  to  be  only  a 
ftecondary  consideration  to  the  motives  that  actuate  me.  Do  you  realize  what 
Captain  Hay  ward  is  willing  to  do  for  my  sake?" 

Mrs.  Levillier  looked  astonished,  then  puzzled.  "EeaUy,  I  cannot  say  that 
I  do.     It  seems  to  me  you  are  the  one  making  all  the  sacrifices." 

"Not  so,  mother  dear,  for  Captain  Hayward  has  promised  to  become  a 
Catholic  and  to  resign  from  the  army.  Can  you  conceive  of  greater  self  abnega- 
tion than  that,  and  cannot  you  understand  my  pride  and  self  congratulations 
that  I,  a  poor,  helpless  woman,  can  accomplish  so  much  for  church  and  state?" 

Mrs.  Levillier  looked  grave.  Here  was  a  side  of  the  question  she  had  not 
anticipated.  She  knew  Rita's  exalted  patriotism  and  warm  faith,  and  in  an 
instant  realized  that,  with  her  inexperienced  child,  such  considerations  would 
be  hard  to  combat  successfully. 

"My  dear  Rita,  the  very  reasons  you  give  me  are  but  added  arguments 
against  your  marriage  to  Captain  Hayward.  A  man  who  yields,  so  readily, 
what  should  be  to  an  honorable  man,  the  most  vital  questions  of  his  life,  is  one 
who,  I  fear,  cannot  be  trusted.  Oh,  my  child!  my  child!  do  not  allow  your  fervid 
yet  mistaken,  loyalty,  to  lead  you  into  taking  a  false  step  that  may  put  your 
happiness  in  this  world,  and  even  in  the  next,  in  jeopardy.  Think,  pray,  save 
yourself,  if  not  me,  from  sorrow,  bitter  and  undying,"  and  Mrs.  Levillier 
gathered  the  unresisting  girl  to  her  arms,  and  tears,  the  saddest  that  can  fall 


EIGHT   OE  WEONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAE  AND   FAITH.  33 

from  a  mother's  eyes,  as  she  knows  for  the  first  time,  that  her  child  has  passed 
forever  from  her  sheltering  arms,  and  she  can  no  longer  avert  the  impending 
blows  of  fate  from  her  beloved,  fell  on  the  dark  head  pressed  against  her  heart. 

Both  remained  silent,  each  busy  with  her  own  thoughts,  then  Eita  raised  her 
head,  and  as  her  eyes  met  her  mother's  anxious  look,  Mrs.  Levillier  knew  she 
had  lost  the  good  fight  even  before  Eita  said: 

"Mamma  dear,  forgive  me  if  I  do  not  see  as  you  do,  but  I  have  promised, 
and  the  word  of  a  Levillier  is  never  idly  broken.  Be  it  for  weal  or  woe,  I  must 
abide  by  it.    Do  not  make  it  too  hard  for  me." 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A  TALE  OF  WAB  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  wedding  preparations  were  going  forward  slowly,  even  Rita  sharing  in 
the  apathy  Mrs,  Levillier  and  Mam  Tel  showed  so  plainly.  Victor  had  added 
his  protest  by  letter  to  his  sister,  urging  the  same  reasons  given  by  his 
mother,  and,  going  further,  had  declared  that  when  the  time  came,  even  could 
he  secure  a  furlough,  he  would  not  sanction,  by  his  presence,  such  folly  on  her 
part. 

Father  Turgis,  alone,  had  spoken  some  words  of  comfort  in  answer  to  her 
brief  note,  telling  him  the  news,  and  begging  that  he  would  come  to  marry 
her.  He  urged  her  to  so  instruct  her  future  husband  that  he  might  be  a  true 
soldier  of  the  Church,  prepared  to  enlist  under  her  banners,  when  he  came  to 
unite  them  in  the  bond  that  only  death  could  sever. 

Mrs.  Levillier  had  hoped  much  from  Father  Turgis'  advice  and  influence, 
and  felt  sure  that  he  had  received  a  false  impression  of  Captain  Hayward's 
conversion.  But  communication  with  the  distant  and  uncertain  stations  in 
which  Father  Turgis  was  placed,  made  any  exchange  of  letters  very  uncertain, 
so  she  bowed  her  head  in  resignation  to  the  inevitable.  Mam  Tel  was  much 
harder  to  convince  of  its  inevitability,  and  strongly,  yet  respectfully,  urged 
Mrs.  Levillier  to  take  a  firm  stand  with  Rita. 

"Madam,  why  don't  you  put  your  foot  down,  and  just  tell  Miss  Rita  she 
can't  marry  that  Yankee  man.  I  tell  you,  I  don't  trust  him!  Miss  Rita's  got 
blinkers  on;  she  can't  look  nowhere  but  along  her  own  nose  .  Anyhow,  you  just 
might  as  well  expect  a  mouse  to  run  away  from  a  cat  when  that  cat's  got  his 
paw  on  it.  He  don't  let  her  forget  her  word,  not  a  minute,  I  tells  you,  'till 
she  thinks  she's  as  good  as  married  to  him  already,  but  if  you'd  just  send  him 
about  his  business.  Miss  Rita  would  come  to  her  senses,  and  thank  you  some 
day  for   'bleeging  her  to  do  as  you  say." 

"There's  perhaps  some  truth  in  what  you  say,  Mam  Tel,  but  I  know  Rita's 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  35 

temperament  better  than  you  do,  opposition  would  surely  make  matters  worse. 
Besides,  I  have  always  held  that  marriage  was  an  entirely  personal  question 
and  that  fathers  and  mothers  have  no  right  to  do  more  than  point  out  the  pos- 
sible consequences  of  such  a  step,  and  let  their  children  decide.  I  have  taken 
such  information  as  I  could  from  Major  Kendrick  as  to  Captain  Hayward's 
social  position.  I  have  seen  no  overt  act  on  his  part  that  could  open  Rita's 
eyes  by  confirming  our  suspicions,  so  I  am  helpless." 

Man  Tel  generally  went  off,  after  one  of  these  arguments,  silenced  but  un- 
convinced, only  to  renew  the  subject  at  the  next  opportunity. 

Rumors  of  an  exchange  of  prisoners  had  reached  them,  and  both  Major 
Kendrick  and  Captain  Hayward  rejoiced  at  the  prospect,  as  it  was  necessary 
that  Captain  Hayward 's  resignation  should  come  after  the  exchange.  As  to 
Major  Kendrick,  the  situation  had  become  unbearable.  In  the  secret  recesses 
of  his  heart,  he  had  cherished  the  hope  that,  perhaps,  some  day,  when  the  whirl 
of  war  was  passed,  its  animosities  and  antagonisms  calmed,  he  might  win  the 
impulsive,  large-hearted  child.  And  now,  to  stand  by  and  see  her,  blinded  by 
her  foolish  fanaticism,  yield  herself  to  a  man  he  so  thoroughly  mistrusted  as 
he  did  Captain  Hayward,  was  more  than  he  could  bear,  yet  he  realized  his  utter 
helplessness. 

One  day  Captain  Hayward  and  Rita  were  discussing  the  battle  and  odd 
incidents  connected  therewith. 

"Honest,  were  you  not  frightened?"  asked  Rita  roguishly,  then  she  added 
quickly,  "Of  course,  I  don't  mean  that,  exactly,  but  did  you  think  of  death, 
the  hereafter  and  all  it  implies,  in  the  thick  of  the  fight." 

Captain  Hayward  smiled  as  her  manner  grew  more  solemn. 

"Can't  say  I  did;  all  the  prayers  I  knew,  'Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,' 
didn't  seem  very  appropriate  to  the  occasion." 

"Surely  you  know  the  Lord's  prayer!" 

"Well,  perhaps  if  I'd  think  right  hard,  I  might  pass  muster,  but  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  am  afraid  I  did  more  cursing  than  praying." 

Rita  looked  properly  horrified. 


36  RIGHT  OR   WRONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

"There,  little  saint,  don't  look  that  way!  I'm  ready  to  learn  all  the 
prayers  in  the  prayer  book  if  only  you'll  be  my  teacher.     Is  it  a  bargain?" 

"Why  that  is  a  matter  of  course.     Shall  I  begin  now?" 

"Anything  to  please  the  child." 

"Our  Father,"  began  Rita,  then  stopped  suddenly. 

"What!  caught  in  your  own  trap.     You've  forgotten  as  well  as  I." 

"Indeed,  I  have  not,"  indignantly.  "But  do  you  know  I  never  say  that 
prayer  in  English." 

"No,  what  then!" 

"In  Trench." 

"Explain.     Isn't  English  good  enough  for  you?" 

"How  absurd!  I  suppose  if  I  had  not  learned  it  first  in  French,  I  might 
have  been  satisfied  with  English,  but" — Rita  hesitated. 

"Go  on!  what  is  it?" 

"Well,  I  never  could  bring  myself  to  say.  'Lead  me  not  into  temptation.' 
I  cannot  conceive  of  a  father  leading  his  child  into  temptation,  much  less  the 
Godhead,  his  poor  creatures.  Now,  in  French  we  say,  'Let  us  not  faU  into 
temptation;'  and  that  is  as  it  should  be." 

Captain  Hay  ward's  eyes  twinkled  mischievously,  but  he  kept  a  serious  face, 
enjoying  to  the  full  probing  into  this  sensitive  conscience,  whose  every  im- 
pulse afforded  him  infinite  delight  and  amusement,  even  though  at  times  it 
startled  him  uncomfortably  to  find  that  her  artless  avowals  aroused  within  him 
promptings  to  good,  which  he  believed  had  long  ago  perished. 

' '  Oh,  you  little  heretic !  "  he  cried  reprovingly. 

"Don't  say  that  please!  It  seems  to  me  there  can  be  no  great  wrong  in 
preferring  French  to  English.  After  all,  prayer  has  no  language.  It  is  the 
silent  outpouring  of  the  soul,  the  voiceless  language  of  the  creature  to  the 
Creator,  and  when  it  finds  outward  expression,  surely  it  cannot  be  a  grave 
nmtter  which,  of  the  thousand  tongues  bom  at  the  confusion  of  Babel,  we 
employ.  So  I  use  the  one  that  accords  best,  in  my  mind,  with  the  attributes  of 
the  Godhead." 

"Are  you   not   treading  on   dangerous   ground,   arrogating  to   yourself   the 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  37 

right  to  question  the  teachings  of  the  Catholie  Church?"  asked  the  Captain 
hypocritically,  scarcely  suppressing  his  amusement. 

"1  think  not.  The  Church  teaches  the  French  as  well  as  the  English 
version,  so  I  cannot  stray  very  far  in  choosing  between  them." 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?"  Captain  Hay  ward's  feigned  anxiety  rang  true  to 
the  unsuspecting  girl  and  aroused  doubts  in  her  mind. 

''I've  never  consulted  a  wiser  head  than  mine  on  the  subject,  therefore 
how  can  I  be  sure?  What  a  poor  teacher;  what  a  tliJid  guide  unto  your  steps! " 
and  in  her  momentary  contrite  self-negation,  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

A  mocking  laugh  from  Captain  Hayward  roused  her. 

"Oh,  you  dear  unsophisticated,  foolish  child!  Don't  worry!  your  innocence 
and  truthfulness  would  upset  the  arguments  of  Mephistopheles  himself,  how 
then  can  you  fear  for  this  poor  slave  of  yours,  who  is  more  than  willing  to  take 
you  as  his  guide  and  Mentor,  to  see  with  your  eyes,  hear  with  your  ears,  and 
believe  as  you  believe.  Isn't  that  sufficient,  little  girl?  Let's  see  the  sun- 
shine once  more  in  that  sweet  face,  for  when  that  is  overcast,  'the  world  is 
dark  and  dreary  for  me.'  " 

And  Rita  felt  she  had  nothing  to  fear  or  regret  in  her  decision  to  marry 
Captain   Hayward. 


EIGHT  OR   WRONG;   A   TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

After  the  exchange  of  prisoneM,  in  which  Captain  Hayward  and  Major  Ken- 
drick  were  included,  Capt.  Hayward  returned,  in  the  month  of  February,  much 
to  Mrs.  Levillier's  secret  sorrow  and  Mam  Tel's  openly-expressed  regrets. 

Father  Turgis  had  written  that  he  would  come  when  opportunity  allowed 
him  to  spare  a  few  hours,  and  bade  them  be  ready  at  a  moment's  notice,  as  he 
could  fix  no  time. 

Captain  Hayward  grew  impatient  at  the  delay,  and  one  day  hinted  that  a 
minister  of  the  Methodist  persuasion  would  answer  all  purposes. 

Rita  grew  indignant,  ' '  Have  I  instructed  you  so  poorly,  or  do  you  not 
appreciate  the  fact  that  a  marriage  outside  of  the  Church  would  mean  nothing 
to  me?  Marriage,  to  a  Catholic,  is  not  merely  a  civil  contract,  but  a  sacrament, 
that  is  intended  to  give  us  grace  to  bear  up  under  trial*  that  "will  beset  us  on 
life's  long  journey." 

Captain  Hayward  laughed  at  her  solemn  words.  "Well,  little  girl,  don't 
worry.  I  was  only  trying  to  see  how  much  you  might  be  willing  to  yield  in 
exchange  for  all  I  've  given  up — '  a  fair  exchange, '  etc.,  you  know — but,  to  tell 
the  truth,  I  much  prefer  to  have  you  tied  hard  and  fast,  as  you  Catholics  believe, 
than  leave  any  loopholes  through  which  you  might  escape  me.  So,  content  your 
soul  in  patience,  as  I  shall  do,  until  Father  Turgis  puts  in  an  appearance. ' ' 

Ca_ptain  Hayward 's  first  care  had  been  to  put  into  Rita's  hand  a  small 
package,  which,  when  relieved  of  its  outer  wrappings,  disclosed  a  casket  of 
chased  silver,  bearing  the  indelible  impress  of  time.  On  lifting  the  faded  pad 
of  pale  blue  satin  that  first  met  the  eye,  a  rosary  of  the  purest  amber  that  *  •  ever 
sorrowing  sea-bird  hath  wept"  was  exposed  to  the  expectant  eyes  bent  above  it. 
It  was  not,  however,  the  beauty  of  the  perfect  beads  that  riveted  Rita  'e  atten- 
tion. Where  the  cross  usuallj^  hangs,  was  a  medallion  of  Limoge  enamel,  which 
represented  Christ  on  the  cross,  hanging  between  the  two  thieves.  The  beads,  on 
which  are  said  the  Pater  Nosters  were  replaced  by  silver  figures  of  hands  and 


EIGHT   OR   WRONG;   A   TALE   OF   WAR  AND  FAITH.  39 

feet,  perforated  by  the  nails,  the  spear  that  pierced  His  side,  the  chalice,  the 
sponge,  which  contained  the  gall  offered  to  assuage  His  thirst,  the  crown  of 
thorns,  all  recalling  the  passion  of  the  Son  of  Man. 

On  the  cover  was  pinned  a  properly-attested  certificate  that  this  rosary  had 
originally  belonged  to  Maria  Theresa,  Duchess  D 'Angouleme,  daughter  of  Louis 
XVI  and  Marie  Antoinette. 

Captain  Hayward  looked  contemptuously  at  the  rosary,  which  Rita  held  rever- 
erently.  "I  imagined  Major  Kendrick  was  sending  you  some  priceless  jewels,  to 
I  lease  the  feminine  taste,  by  the  care  he  enjoined  on  me  of  that  precious  package. 
He  was  not  half  so  particular  about  the  other  gift,  that,  to  my  eye,  represents 
fifty  to  one  greater  value  than  this  rubbish." 

Rita  looked  up  proudly.  "Nothing  could  please  a  Levillier  more  than  this 
beautiful  reminder  of  the  faith  of  that  daughter  of  the  ill-fated  House  of 
Bourbon,  who  alone  survived  the  terrors  of  the  revolution,  during  which,  the  last 
Marquis  D'Estreville  gave  his  life  in  defense  of  his  king." 

Captain  Hayward  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Well,  maybe  so,  but  wait  till 
you  see  the  chest  of  silver,  all  marked  to  the  Levillier  arms,  that  I  have  left  in 
jour  future  home,  as  it  was  too  bulky  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  military  roads  and 
outposts,  to  say  nothing  of  guerillas,  who  would  not  have  hesitated  to  confiscate 
even  the  property  of  a  Southern  woman.  You  see,  my  friend,  or  rather  your 
friend,  the  major  (Colonel,  by  the  way),  took  care  that  I  should  take  no  share 
in  his  gift,  which  he  claims  represents  only  a  fraction  of  what  he  owes  you.  I 
think  I  rather  stole  a  march  on  the  Major,  by  marrying  the  girl,  to  even  up  my 
share  of  the  debt.   " 

Rita  colored,  angrily.  "Pray,  Captain  Hayward,  do  not  sacrifice  yourself  so 
unnecessarily  on  the  altar  of  gratitude.  The  girl  will  willingly  give  you  a  receipt 
in  full  for  all  you  owe  her  or  hers.    I  rejoice  that  the  discovery  came  in  time. ' ' 

"Oh,  you  dear  little  spitfire!  Don't  you  know  by  this  time  I  can't'  resist 
teasing  you,  just  to  see  the  red  blood  mantling  your  cheeks,  and  the  fire  of 
righteous  indignation  light  those  pretty  eyes!  It  was  at  best  an  ill-timed  joke, 
I  admit,  but  I  would  risk  all,  but  final  banishment,  just  to  see  the  pride  of  race 
in  that  erect  head,  or  hear  its  accents  in  that  clear  voice!  But,  come,  little 
one,"  he  added,  as  Rita  did  not  relax  her  attitude,  "Major  Kendrick  is  not 


40  RIGHT  OK   WRONG;    A  TALE   OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

worthy  to  be  the  cause  of  a  serious  lovers'  quarrel  between  us.  Say  you  forget 
aud  forgive,"  and  Rita,  once  more,  unheeding  the  promptings  of  her  better 
jtidgment,  reluctantly  yielded. 

At  laat,  one  day,  just  as  night  was  falling.  Father  Turgis  arrived.  He  had 
ridden  all  day,  but  no  sooner  was  he  seated  at  supper  than  he  announced  that  he 
had  only  a  few  hours  to  spare,  and  that  the  wedding  must  take  place  at  an  early 
hour  the  next  morning,  so  that  by  eight  o'clock  he  could  be  on  his  return  to  his 
more  pressing  duties. 

Shortly  after  supper,  Rita,  Mrs.  Levillier  and  Mam  Tel,  each  in  turn,  entered 
the  improvised  confessional.  Then  Father  Turgis  invited  Captain  Hayward  to  a 
conference,  and  began  to  question  him  as  to  his  change  of  faith. 

Captain  Hayward  replied  unequivocally,  assuring  Father  Turgis  of  his 
sincerity,  in  these  words:  "My  good  Father,  any  church  that  can  show  such 
phining  examples  as  yourself,  Mrs.  Levillier  and  the  rare  blossom  of  pure  woman- 
hood I  hope  to  make  my  wife,  must  be  one  whose  tenets  I  can  safely  accept." 

"Nay,  nay,  my  son,  the  Church  cannot  accept  such  generalities  in  lieu  of 
absolute  faith.  I  think  Christ  Himself  meant  to  teach  how  little  we  can  judge 
of  the  truth  of  religion  by  its  professors,  when  He  chose  His  disciples.  To  our 
worldly  wisdom  it  would  seem  that,  having  picked  these  men  from  the  many, 
they,  at  least,  should  have  proved  true  and  steadfast,  yet  one  betrayed  Him,  one 
denied  Him  thrice,  and  one  declared  utter  unbelief  in  the  very  miracle  that  was 
to  proclaim  his  Master's  divinity.  So  it  is  that,  of  the  thousands  that  claim 
membership  in  the  great,  universal  Church,  some  betray  her  teachings  by  evil 
lives,  some  deny  her  by  their  indifference  and  levity,  and  some  are  ever  ready 
to  question  and  doubt  her  doctrines;  therefore,  the  personal  peccability  or  impec- 
to  question  and  doubt  her  doctrines;  therefore,  the  personal  peccability  or  impec- 
cability of  her  children  is  not  sufficient  ground  for  accepting  or  rejecting  her 
teachings.  These  you  must  accept  willingly  and  unreservedly,  without  ulterior 
object,  save  your  soul's  salvation,  simply  because  her  Founder,  Christi  Jesus,  has 
said  so.  These  are  the  only  conditions  on  which  she  will  throw  open  the  doors 
of  her  sanctuary  to  those  who  ask  for  admission.  Are  you  prepared,  my  son,  to 
accept  these  conditions?" 


RIGHT  OE  WRONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAR   AND  FAITH.  41 

' '  Why,  Father,  that  is  a  matter  of  course,  else  why  should  I  have  summoned 
you  here  to  marry  me  to  a  girl  who,  I  truly  believe,  would,  like  the,  martyrs  of 
old,  go  to  the  stake  rather  than  yield  one  jot  or  tittle  of  her  faith— how  much 
lees  then,  to  marry  me?"  and  Captain  Hay  ward  gave  a  peculiar  laugh,  that 
grated  on  the  ear  of  the  good  priest.  "You  see,"  continued  the  captain,  "Eita 
is  such  a  good,  sincere,  little  Papist,  she  has  drummed  the  catefehism  into  me 
until  it  seems  to  me  I  never  believed  anything  else.  So,  question  me,  Father,  as 
you  will,  but  if  I  should  fall  below  your  standards,  blame  the  pupil,  not  his 
teacher. ' ' 

Rita  had  done  her  work  well,  and,  so  far  as  familiarity  with  the  subjects 
absolutely  necessary  for  a  catechumen  to  know,  Father  Turgis  found  nothing  to 
criticize;  yet,  in  spite  of  this,  and  of  the  Captain's  assurance  of  unreserved  ac- 
ceptance, there  was  a  levity  about  his  answers  that  troubled  Father  Turgis  sorely. 

On  the  necessity  for  confession,  even  after  conditional  baptism,  Captain 
Hayward  had  replied:  "Why,  Father,  as  to  that,  you  know  hum^  nature  pretty 
well,  and  I  guess  I'm  no  better  nor  worse  than  the  majority;  probably  have 
broken  every  one  of  the  Commandments,  more  or  less,  except,  'Thou  shalt  not 
kill,'  unless  you  look  on  war  as  murder." 

"Those  generalities  will  not  do.  The  priest  must  know  you  as  you  know 
yourself,  e'er  he  can  absolve  you  of  your  sins.  Time,  pMce,  aggravating  or 
mitigating  circumstances,  so  far,  of  course,  as  memory  serves,  as  well  as  a  firm 
purpose  of  amendment,  all  are  necessary  to  a  good  confession." 

"'So  Rita  and  the  catechism  told  me,  and  so  I  most  sincerely  desire  to  act." 

Father  Turgis  accepted  Captain  Hayward 's  apparent  sincerity,  and  shortly 
thereafter  the  Captain  went  to  tell  Rita  that  he  was,  on  the  following  morning, 
to  partake  of  the  Holy  Eucharist,  as  well  as  receive  the  Sacrament  of  Matrimony 
iit  the  nuptial  mass,  in  order  that,  by  eight  o'clock,  Father  Turgis  might  begin 
his  return  journey. 

The  good  man  had  brought  the  chalice,  vestments  and  unconsecrated  host, 
and,  with  his  own  hands,  erected  a  temporary  altar. 

Despite  the  fact  that  Mam  Tel  disapproved  so  strongly  of  Rita 's  choice,  when 
the  eventful  day  arrived,  she  was  all  excitement  and  gave  a  willing  hand  to 
every  department  of  the  preparations,  assisting  Mrs.  Levillier  in  robing  Eita  in 


43  BIGHT   OR   WRONG;   A   TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

the  plain,  yet  rich,  bridal  dress  Mrs.  Levillier  had  ordered  for  the  occasion,  then 
darting  into  the  kitchen  to  superintend  the  wedding  breakfast  that  was  to  fol- 
low immediately  after  the  ceremony.  It  was  on  one  of  these  hasty  visits  to 
Mrs.  Frawley's  special  domain,  that  Mam  Tel  was  just  in  time  to  see  Captain 
Hayward  set  clown  a  cup  whose  contents  he  had  just  drained. 

Mam  Tel's  horror  at  the  sight  left  her  no  English  words  to  express  her  in- 
tliguation,  and  she  eiied  out  in  patois,  "Ca  vous  ape'  faise  la?  Vous  pas  conne' 
mieu  q^ue  ca?  Vous  pas  conne'  vous  pas  capable  recevoir  vous  premier  communion 
a  pesent?  Ca  Mamselle  Rita  ape'  dis?"  ("What  are  you  doing  there?  Don't 
you  know  better  than  that?  Don't  you  know  you  can't  take  your  first  com- 
munion now?    What  is  Mamselle  Rita  going  to  say?") 

The  words  were  unintelligible  to  the  Captain,  but  their  intonation,  trans- 
lated by  the  aid  of  his  guilty  conscience,  conveyed  their  meaning,  and  he 
turned  nonchalantly  about  and  said:  "What  have  I  done  now,  old  ladyf  I  never 
seem  to  hit  it  right  with  you.  You  could  not  be  more  indignant  if  it  was  a 
stiff  bracer  instead  of  an  innocent  cup  of  coffee." 

"Didn't  Mo  Pitti  tell  you  you  must  not  eat  anything  from  midnight  of  the 
day  you  was  to  take  the  communion?" 

"Certainly,  but  I  didn't  eat  anything  with  the  coffee." 
"If  the  coffee  had  been  water,  it  would  have  been  just  as  bad.    Didn't  Mo 
Piti  tell  you  dat?" 

"By  Jove,  so  she  did!"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  apparently  just  recalling 
Rita's  specific  instructions.  "What  shall  I  do  now,  old  lady?" 
' '  Go  tell  Pere  Turgis  what  you  do.    I  go  tell  Mo  Piti. ' ' 
"All  right,  but  tell  her  I'm  awful  sorry,  but  it  won't  happen  next  time." 
"Next  time! "  Mam  Tel  exclaimed,  "next  time  you  get  married?    Don't  you 
know  there  won't  be  no  next  time,  for  neider  you  nor  Miss  Rita,  least  one  of 
you  die?    Don't  you  know  it's  only  low  down  niggers  and  wicked  white  people 
what  get  married  noder  time?" 

In  the  Catholic  community  in  which  Mam  Tel  had  been  raised,  divorce  was 
an  unknown  quantity,  and  Mam  Tel's  ideas  on  the  subject  were  pretty  hazy, 
but  she  did  know  that  separation  might  follow,  but  remarriage  never,  for  her 
Catholic  mistress. 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;   A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  43 

' '  Oh,  I  didn  't  mean  getting  married  again,  old  lady,  but  the  next  time  "we  go 
to  communion." 

Captain  Hay  ward's  explanation  mollified  Mam  Tel  somewhat,  and  she  went 
to  communicate  her  news  to  Mrs.  Levillier  and  Bita. 

In  doing  what  he  had  done  deliberately.  Captain  Hayrvard  had  flattered 
himself  he  had  done  a  very  meritorious  action  by  not  adding  a  sacrilege,  if  Eita. 
was  right,  to  his  other  deceptions.  Baptism  and  confession  he  regarded  as  un- 
important, but  though  he  called  the  Sacrament  of  the  Eucharist,  a  senseless 
superstition,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  was  impressed  with  the  grandeur  of  the 
faith  that  could  appeal,  equally,  to  the  masterly  intellect  of  Father  Turgis  and 
the  childish  simplicity  of  Mam  Tel,  Mrs.  Levillier 's  calm,  deliberate  mind,  and 
Eita's  fervid,  imaginative  nature.  He  remembered  Mrs.  Levillier 's  words  on  one 
occasion  when  he  had  urged  that  such  a  tremendous  transformation,as  she  be- 
lieved took  place  in  the  unleavened  bread  or  wafer,  must  leave  some  outward, 
visible  sign,  she  had  replied: 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  dead,  inert  wire  suddenly  converted  into  a  messenger 
of  good  and  evil,  of  light  and  power,  of  war  and  peace,  of  healing  and  of 
death,  and  yet  giving  no  outward  sign  by  which  even  the  most  expert  could  dif- 
ferentiate between  the  inert  mass  and  that  charged  with  this  tremendous  power T 
This,  however,  is  a  manifestation  of  the  material  world,  but  can  you  not  conceive 
that,  in  the  vast,  incomprehensible  spiritual  world,  the  transcendant,  infinite 
power  of  a  Godhead,  can,  at  the  words  of  consecration,  transmute  and  convert 
the  bread  and  wine  into  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ,  without  appealing  to  our 
narrow,  finite  senses?" 

The  words  had  awed  him  in  spite  of  his  skepticism,  and  had  aroused 
doubts  he  would  have  been  unwilling  to  admit,  even  in  his  subconsciousness,  and 
he  determined  that,  as  he  would  not  knowingly  tamper  with  a  live  wire  for 
fear  of  physical  death,  he  would  rather  not  take  any  risk  of  that  death  of  the 
soul  for  whomsoever  eat  or  drank  unworthily,  so  fervently  and  graphically  por- 
trayed by  Eita.  She  herself  had  furnished  him  with  the  only  way  out  of  his 
dilemma,  by  striving  to  impress  him  with  the  necessity  for  absolute  fast  both 
from  meat  or  drink  prior  to  communion.     He  felt  sure  that  no  other  excuse 


44  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A  TALE  OF  WAR   AND  FAITH. 

would  avail  him,  convinced  as  he  was  that  even  at  the  altar  Rita  would  refuse 
to  marry  him,  if  she  did  not  believe  him  a  sincere  convert  to  her  creed,  the  cof- 
fee, therefore,  seemed  such  an  easy  excuse,  and  he  had  not  hesitated  to  avail 
himself  of  it. 

When  Captain  Hayward  sought  Father  Turgis  and  admitted  his  fault,  laying 
the  blame  on  habits  of  camp  life  and  the  nervous  condition  in  which  he  found 
himself,  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  feeling  at  first  predominated  the 
most,  thankfulness  or  regret;  thankfulness  that  a  great  sacrilege  had  been  avert- 
ed, regret  that  perhaps  the  child  over  whom  he  had  watched  so  carefully  was 
about  to  trust  her  life  in  the  keeping  of  one,  who,  he  could  not  divest  himself  of 
the  idea,  was  likely  to  prove  unworthy,  but  with  that  charity  that  was  the  key- 
\ote  of  the  grand  nature  of  the  man,  he  rejected  both  as  unworthy  of  his  priestly 
mission,  and  accepted  as  true  Captain  Hayward 's  contrition  at  its  face  value. 

When  Rita  received  the  news,  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  a  precipice  had  opened 
at  her  feet.  She  had  all  along  pictured  to  herself  the  scene  of  her  marriage, 
as  the  ideal  Christian  ceremony  when  she  and  the  man  she  had  chosen 
should  together  receive  the  bread  of  life,  united  in  faith  and  spirit  as  well 
as  made  one  by  the  blessing  of  the  church,  and  she  almost  recoiled  at  the 
fulfillment  of  her  promise  given  conditionally  on  this  last  proof  of  his  truth 
and  sincerity.  In  an  instant,  however,  her  own  lofty  and  generous  nature  cam0 
to  the  rescue.  She  remembered  all  he  had  apparently  given  up  for  her  sake, 
and  acknowledged  that  it  was  an  accident  that  could  happen  to  any  one,  so 
that,  when  Captain  Hayward  came  to  lead  her  to  the  parlor,  converted,  for  the 
nonce,  into  a  chapel,  she  only  whispered  as  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm:  "01 
James,  I  am  so  sorry  for  you  as  well  as  for  myself!"  and  she  resolved,  by  in- 
creased fervor,  to  atone  for  his  fault,  until  when  she,  Mrs.  Levillier,  and  Mam 
Tel  received  the  consecrated  host,  Captain  Hayward  was  awed  by  the  wrapt  ex- 
pression of  the  beautiful  face  that  reminded  him  more  of  the  seraphic  faces 
of  the  saints  and  angels  than  of  an  earthly  bride,  and  for  the  moment,  he  felt  the 
first,  and  only,  genuine  emotions  of  true  conversion  he  was  ever  to  feel. 


EIGHT  OE   WEONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAE  AND   FAITH. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

"Well,  here  we  are  at  last!"  exclaimed  Captain  Hay  ward,  as  the  carriage 
stopped  in  front  of  a  large,  colonial  house.  Helping  Eita  to  alight,  he  left  Mam 
Tel  to  follow  with  the  personal  belongings  of  both. 

Mam  Tel,  with  a  negro's  appreciative  sense  of  caste  and  its  visible  belong- 
ings, as  she  took  in  at  a  glance  the  eminent  respectability  of  the  home,  which 
was  to  be  Eita's,  and,  therefore  hers,  heaved  a  sigh  of  infinite  relief,  and  for 
the  first  time  she  acknowledged  to  herself  that,  after  all,  it  was  possible  that 
her  well-beloved  "Piti"  had  not,  by  her  marriage,  derogated  from  her  own 
rank  and  station  in  life,  and  she  muttered  half -contritely:  'Moi,  mo  te  pas  croire 
un  mot  ca  li  te  dit  mo  Piti!  Ape  tout,  peutre  li  pas  si  vaurien  mo  te'  croire" 
(Me,  I  don't  believe  one  word  he  told  my  little  one.  Perhaps,  after  all,  he 
may  not  be  as  worthless  as  I  think) ;  and  she  followed  Eita  and  the  Captain 
with  very  different  feelings  from  those  she  had,  hitherto,  entertained  toward 
the  latter. 

Captain  Hayward  had  failed  to  notify  his  mother  of  their  intended  return, 
and  to  make  the  surprise  more  complete,  he  neglected  to  raise  the  massive 
knocker  on  the  front  door,  but  inserting  his  latch  key,  enjoining  silence,  entered 
the  hall,  which  seemed  to  divide  the  house  in  twain.  At  the  further  end,  a 
broad  staircase  rose  squarely  some  six  or  seven  feet,  then  dividing  on  either 
side,  reached  the  upper  floor.  Midway,  to  the  right,  a  large  fireplace  held  the 
brass  dogs  on  which  rested  a  huge  log  that  might  have  graced  a  Yuletide  in  old 
England.  Doors  on  either  side  led,  evidently,  to  apartments  beyond.  Their 
entrance  had  not  disturbed  the  inmates,  and  Eita  and  Mam  Tel  had  ample  time 
to  take  in  the  beauty  of  the  oak  panelings,  rafters,  stairs  and  doors,  mellowed 
into  the  rich,  dark  hue  time  alone  can  impart,  as  well  as  the  quaint,  solid  furni- 
ture with  claw  feet  and  brass  ornaments.  The  only  concession  to  modern 
progress,  or  as  Eita  put  it  mentally,  the  only  discordant  note  in  the  exquisite  old 
ensemble,  was  the  great  register  that  stood,  in  brazen  stolidity,  near  the  Stair- 


46  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;   A  TALE   OF  WAR   AND  FAITH. 

case.     Everything  bespoke  comfort  and  taste,  and  every  doubt  that  might  have 
lurked  in  the  secret  recesses  of  her  soul  vanished. 

Captain  Hayward  did  not,  however,  maintain  his  waiting  attitude  for  long, 
but  drawing  an  easy  chair  noisily,  he  pushed  Rita  gently  into  it,  and  exclaimed 
in  a  loud,  mock-heroic  voice,  "Welcome  to  my  castle,  fair  lady,"  doffing  his  cap 
in  mimic  homage,  and  turned,  at  the  sound  of  an  opening  door,  to  face  a  young 
girl,  on  whose  features,  at  sight  of  the  intruders,  astonishment  overmastered 
every  other  emotion. 

She  was  small  of  stature,  with  a  well-rounded  form.  The  wealth  of  golden 
hair  piled  high  on  her  head,  was  not  sufficiently  restrained  to  hold  back  the 
short  curls  that  clustered  about  the  face.  The  large  blue  eyes  were  veiled  by 
dark  lashes  in  strange  contrast  to  the  milky-white  skin  and  roseate  cheeks, 
peculiar  to  northern  latitudes,  but  the  small  features  accorded  well  with  the 
innocent,  childish  expression  that  Rita  afterwards  always  compared  to  pictured 
faces  of  saints  and  angels. 

Astonishment  soon  gave  place  to  a  bright  smile  of  welcome,  and  at  that 

instant  Rita  felt  the  first  impulse  of  a  friendship  for  the  pretty  girl  that  was 

to  last  and  increase  in  after  years.    Bending  quickly,  Rita  kissed  the  rosy  cheeks. 

"I  know,"  she  said,  "this  must  be  Claire,  and  never  name  fitted  its  owner 

better. ' ' 

Scarcely  returning  the  kiss,  nor  waiting  to  say  aught,  Claire  turned  and 
ran  quickly  into  an  inner  apartment,  and  returned  soon,  almost  dragging  an 
elderly  lady  by  the  hand.    James  advanced  to  meet  his  mother. 

Mrs.  Hayward  was  tall  and  spare,  but  was  saved  from  angularity  by  the 
grace  of  every  movement.  Her  features  were  regular;  the  hair,  of  that  silvery 
white  that  adds  to  and  softens  the  fading  beauty  of  an  aging  face,  was  caught 
in  two  curls  by  handsome  side  combs;  the  eyes  were  of  a  steely  grey,  that  ac- 
centuated the  coldness  and  hauteur  with  which  she  greeted  her  son,  and  chilled 
effectually  the  spontaneous  and  characteristic  warmth  Rita  was  prepared  to  ac- 
cord her  husband's  mother.  She,  therefore,  waited  until  he  drew  her  to  himself 
and  said:  "Mother  mine,  I  trust  you  have  a  welcome  for  a  forlorn  little  girl, 
a  stranger  in  a  strange  land," 


EIGHT   OR  WRONG;   A   TALE   OF   WAR   AND   FAITH.  47 

Mrs.  Hayward  bent  forward  and  imprinted  a  chilling  kiss  on  the  cheek  of 
the  now  trembling  Rita,  and  fixing  a  penetrating  look  on  her  blushing  face,  Said 
almost  sternly:  "My  son's  wife  is,  perforce,  welcome  to  my  home." 

Then  laying  her  hand  on  Rita's  head,  from  which  Mam  Tel  had  removed 
hat  and  veil,  she  smoothed  back,  with  unexpected  gentleness,  the  dark  curly 
locks  and  said: 

''You  are  very  beautiful,  my  daughter,  but  even  such  beauty  can  scarcely 
excuse  James  for  being  a  traitor  to  his  God,  his  country  and  his  betrothed." 

"His  betrothed!"  Rita's  bewildered  look  as  she  turned  alternately  to  her 
husband  and  his  mother,  and  caught  the  expression  of  keen  annoyance  he  threw 
at  the  latter,  told  plainly  her  ignorance  of  the  truth.  A  glance  at  Claire's 
increased  color,  and  her  womanly  aptitude  in  jumping  at  conclusions,  soon  told 
Rita  that  Claire  was  the  object  of  James'  third  apostacy,  and  impulsively  Rita 
extended  her  hands  toward  the  young  girl  and  said:  "Believe  me,  Claire,  I  never, 
until  this  instant,  knew  that  any  one  possessed  a  prior  claim  to  James'  affec- 
tions." 

Claire  took  the  outstretched  hands,  and  drew  Rita  warmly  to  her  arms. 

"I  believe  you,  dear,"  she  said  quietly,  and  Mrs.  Hayward  added  in  her 
cold,  impassive  manner:  "Child,  he  added  deception  of  you  to  all  his  other  sins." 

' '  There, ' '  exclaimed  Captain  Hayward  impatiently,  '  *  a  pretty  welcome  this, 
to  my  wife,  who  has,  at  least,  some  rights  in  the  premises!  In  the  South  where 
she  comes  from,  hospitality  takes  a  little  more  smiling  form  than  recriminations! 
Mrs.  Levallier  and  her  daughter  gave  your  son,  an  enemy  and  invader  of  their 
home,  a  little  warmer  treatment,  or  he  had  not  lived  to  tell  the  tale,  and  you 
would  never  have  had  the  chance  to  make  such  a  hullaballoo  about  nothing. 
Come,  Rita,  little  girl,  I  shall  have  to  do  the  honors  of  my  house.  Mother,  I 
suppose  my  room  is  as  I  left  it.  Mam  Tel  will  soon  put  it  in  order  for  her 
tired  young  mistress." 

Her  son's  words  brought  back  the  fact,  which  had  lost  nothing  in  the  tell- 
ing, the  care  that  Rita  and  her  mother  had  given  him,  and  Mrs.  Hayward  and 
Claire  vied  with  each  other  to  minister  to  Rita's  comfort  and  make  her  forget; 
but  the  words  and  the  truth  so  rankled  in  the  heart  of  the  poor  young  wife 


48  EIGHT  OR   WEONG;   A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

that  even,  when,  later,  they  were  all  gathered  in  the  dining-room,  her  face  bore 
the  impress  of  her  emotion  by  its  pallor,  and  when,  to  conceal  her  feelings,  she 
tried  to  smile,  there  was  a  suspicious  tremor  about  the  mouth,  that  was  more 
akin  to  tears  than  merriment. 

"When  next  Claire  and  Rita  were  alone,  the  latter  came  straight  to  the  point. 

* '  Claire,  dear,  you  said  last  night  that  you  believed  me.  Can  you  go  still 
further  and  tell  me  that  I  am  forgiven  for  the  wrong  I  involuntarily  did  you!" 

Claire  smiled  enigmatically.  "1  scarcely  know  whether  to  forgive,  or  to 
thank  you." 

Rita  looked  incredulously  and  questioningly  at  the  girl. 

"Perhaps  I  had  best  explain.  From  the  time  I  came  here  an  orphan  to 
claim  the  care  and  love  Auntie  has  so  generously  given  me,  I  think  she  planned 
and  hoped  that  James  and  I  should  eventually  marry.  To  please  her  was  my 
greatest  desire,  and  as  James  seemed  to  acquiesce  willingly,  the  matter  became 
an  accepted  fact.  We  were  playmates,  and  always  with  the  desire  to  do  what- 
ever would  please  Auntie,  it  became  a  fixed  habit  of  mine  to  yield  to  all  things 
to  his  masterly  commands,  never  complaining  of  his  tyranny  and  injustice,  but 
contenting  myself  by  going  off,  when  he  was  particularly  disagreeable,  and 
crying  softly  in  some  far-off  corner.  When  he  outgrew  my  companionship  and 
sought  the  society  of  boys  of  his  own  age,  some  glimmering  of  light  came  to 
me,  when  I  found  myself  involuntarily  comparing  James  to  his  boy  friends, 
generally  to  his  detriment," 

Rita's  tell-tale  face  mirrored  her  momentary  annoyance  at  Claire's  candor, 
but  she  controlled  it  quickly. 

"Go  on,"  she  said  simply,  as  Claire  saw  and  hesitated. 

"Well,  dear,  there  is  not  much  more  to  tell.  His  manners  to  me  continued 
the  same, — frolicsome  and  quasi-affectionate  at  times,  at  others,  cruel  and 
overbearing."     Rita  winced. 

"When  he  was  about  leaving  for  the  front,"  Claire  resumed,  "Auntie 
was  very  anxious  that  we  should  be  married.  James  made  no  objections,  but, 
for  once,  I  asserted  myself  and  pleaded  that  it  would  be  time  enough  on  his 
return.    You  see,  I  had  already  begun  to  suspect  that  I  was  not  in  love  with  my 


EIGHT  OR  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  49 

dear  cousin,  and  was  willing,  in  spite  of  the  poets'  assurance,  to  test  the  efEect 
of  absence  on  our  love.  Your  presence  here,  and  my  utter  indifference,  not  to 
say  thankfulness,  are  ample  proof  of  my  wisdom." 

Eita  sighed  contentedly.  "You  are  sure,  Claire,  you  have  no  regrets?" 
Claire  laughed  immoderately. 

"You  have  lived  three  months  with  James  and  still  ask  such  a  question? 
1.  ou  truly  have  worked  miracles  if,  to  have  James  for  a  hubsand,  can  be  a  subject 
for  envy  or  regret." 

Eita  had  been  more  than  woman  had  she  not  involuntarily  shrank  from 
Claire's  succinct  and  plain  statement  of  her  feelings  toward  James  Hayward, 
yet,  she  was  relieved  and  thankful  to  find  that  Claire  was  really  "heart-whole 
and  fancy  free."  But  over  and  above  all  other  feelings,  there  was  the  convic- 
tion that  Clair's  few  words,  with  no  uncertain  strokes,  had  limned  James' 
character.  Despite  her  efforts  to  down  the  unworthy  thought,  she  had  already 
realized  that  his  conversion  was  a  mockery,  as  he  had  always  pleaded  some  ex- 
cuse, whenever  she  approached  the  holy  table,  to  repair  the  pretended  accident, 
that  had  prevented  his  communion  at  the  nuptial  mass,  until,  at  last,  she  had 
ceased  to  urge  him,  lest  she  should  be  the  means  of  urging  him  to  sacrilege,  an 
event  she  could  not  contemplate  without  terror. 

Eising  suddenly,  she  threw  her  arms  around  Claire's  waist,  and  said:  "You 
have  certainly  lifted  a  great  burden  from  my  heart.  To  feel  that  I  had  alienated 
James'  love  from  such  a  girl  as  you,  might  have  flattered  my  vanity,  but  my 
common  sense  would  soon  have  convinced  me  that  I  could  not  hold  the  affection 
I  had  won. ' ' 

"Yet  you  do  not  seem  to  have  had  any  scruples  in  regard  to  his  patriotism 
and  his  faith?"  Claire  asked  in  astonishment. 

"Those  were  questions  that  concerned  only  himself,  and  interfered  in  no 
way  with  the  happiness  of  another.  His  betrothal  to  you  was  entirely  different, 
and  I  would  never  have  forgiven  myself,  had  you  not  convinced  me  that  your 
happiness  was  more  truly  conserved  by  the  breaking,  than  by  the  keeping  of 
his  word." 


50  EIGHT  OR  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

"  'All's  well  that  ends  well,'  "  quoted  Claire.  "Your  conscience  can  rest 
easy  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  and  I  do  hope,  dear,  you  will  be  able  to  work 
the  miracle,  by  proving  me  a  false  prophet,  in  having  painted  James  blacker 
than  he  deserves." 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  51 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

Crash!  Crash!!  Crash!!! 

The  sounds  came  from  overhead  where  Eita  knew  Mam  Tel's  room  was  lo- 
cated. A  profound  silence  followed  the  crash  for  a  few  seconds,  then  pande- 
monium seemed  to  break  loose.  Eita  could  catch  Abigail's  loud,  nasal  tones, 
mingled  with  Mam  Tel's  soft  voice,  robbed  of  its  liquid  notes,  by  anger  and 
indignation. 

Hurrying  upstairs,  Eita  soon  reached  the  scene  of  conflict.  Mam  Tel 
stood  in  the  midst  of  the  torn  and  broken  fragments  of  the  little  altar  that  Eita 
knew  had  always  been  the  object  of  her  pride  and  devotion.  In  one  hand,  Mam 
Tel  held  the  torn  pieces  of  the  altar  cloth,  which,  despite  their  fragmentary  con- 
dition, still  showed  the  careful  laundering  of  which  she  was  so  justly  proud.  The 
other  hand  held  clasped  to  her  bosom  what  remained  of  the  statue  of  Our  Lady 
of  Prompt  Succor,  while  the  floor  was  littered  with  crucifix,  beads,  candles  and 
candlesticks,  pictures  of  saints,  and  vases  in  which  Mam  Tel  had  evidently  placed 
a  few  pretty  blossoms.    The  wreck  was  complete. 

"Why,  how  did  this  happen?"  asked  Eita. 

"It  didn't  happen.  I  did  it  on  purpose!"  exclaimed  Abigail.  "Do  you 
think  I  was  going  to  let  that  black  woman  put  up  those  heathenish  things  in  a 
house  that's  always  been  Godfearing  and  decent  until  the  likes  of  her  come 
into  it!" 

"Mo  Piti,"  cried  Mam  Tel,  returning  to  her  "patois"  as  Eita's  presence 
restrained  and  soothed  her.  ' '  I  had  just  finished  fixing  my  altar,  and  was  feeling 
a  heap  more  contented  than  I've  felt  since  I  comed  here,  when  that  woman 
walked  in.  I  was  just  a-going  to  ask  her  if  she  didn't  think  it  pretty,  when  she 
caught  hold  of  the  lace  and  sent  all  my  pretty  things  every  which  way.  She 
wasn't  satisfied  with  that,  but  she  tore  the  lace  just  as  you  see,  and  stamped  on 
the  blessed  images,  as  if  they  were  dirt  under  her  feet,  and  she  was  afraid  they 


52  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

wasn't  broken  into  little  enough  pieces,"  and  as  Mam  Tel  lived  over  the  scene, 
tears  streamed  down  her  face. 

"Don't  cry,  Mam  Tel,"  and  as  she  spoke  Rita  put  her  arms  affectionately 
around  the  old  woman.  "You  shall  have  as  nice  an  altar  as  this  one,  I  promise 
you.  Ab  to  you,  Abigail, "'she  said  sternly  to  the  white  girl  who  stood  flushed 
with  admiration  of  her  own  prowess,  "I  scarcely  know  what  to  say  of  your  in- 
trusion in  Mam  Tel's  room  to  commit  such  wholesale  destruction  of  what  was 
not  yours,  and  I  shall  most  certainly  appeal  to  Mrs.  Hayward  for  protection  of 
Mam  Tel  and  her  belongings — " 

"If  she's  the  Christian  lady  I've  known  these  many  years,  she'll  not  give 
protection  to  an  idolater,  but  praise  me  for  'smiting  her  hip  and  thigh'  like 
the  Amalakites  of  holy  writ — " 

Rita's  first  impulse  was  to  turn  from  Abigail  in  disgust,  her  next  was  to 
try  and  explain  to  the  irate  but  earnest  creature,  the  error  of  her  judgment,  and, 
if  possible,  secure  Mam  Tel  from  further  molestation. 

"Abigail,  you  surely  do  not  think  that  Mam  Tel  worshipped  those  pieces 
of  china  and  glass  that  you  could  so  easily  destroy?" 

"But  I  do  believe  it,  and  I  know  it!  Didn't  I  see  her  myself  kneelin'  be- 
fore them  and  abowing  and  muttering  her  outlandish  lingo,  just  as  if  the  sense- 
less things  could  hear!  I  tell  you  no  such  popish  doings  can  go  on  in  this 
house,  if  Abigail  Simons  can  help  it!  I  just  tell  you  what  it  is,  many  a  dime 
I've  given,  before  this  war  came  on,  to  help  free  the  poor  slaves,  but  nary  a 
penny  they'd  have  gotten  out  of  me  if  I'd  known  they  were  benighted 
heathens  like  the  likes  of  her!" 

Rita  felt  that  her  position  was,  as  yet,  too  little  assured  to  know  how  to  deal 
with  this  torrent  of  abuse  from  a  woman  whom,  she  knew,  was  held  in  high  esteem 
by  all  the  members  of  the  household.  As  to  Mam  Tel,  Abigail's  vituperative 
English  was  beyond  her  ability  to  understand,  and  as  Abigail  ceased  speaking, 
Mam  Tel  said:  "Mo  Piti,  what  she  say?" 

"She  sayis  you  were  praying  to  the  statues  and  images.  Mam  Tel." 

"And  so  she  was,  the  popish  heathen!" 

As  the  real  meaning  of  Abigail's  conduct  dawned  on  Mam  Tel's  bewildered 


EIGHT  OR  WIEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  53 

brain,  she  gave  the  white  woman  a  look  of  utter  contempt  and  disgust,  and 
turned  her  back  squarely  on  her. 

"Dieu!  may  li  bete!"  (Lord,  but  she  is  stupid),  she  cried,  as  if  argument 
or  asserveration  would  be  lost  on  such  a  benighted  creature.  Then,  suddenly 
turning  to  her  young  mistress,  as  if  disdaining  to  address  Abigail  in  that  English 
tongue,  which,  truth  to  tell,  she  despised,  she  exclaimed:  "Me,  worship  pictures? 
Po  I?  Well,  ask  her  what  she  does  every  night  when  she  stands  in  front  of  that 
picture  that  hangs  in  her  room,  and  talks  to  it  and  kisses  it?  Ask  her  if  she 
worships  that  picture,  the  frame  it's  in,  the  paper  it's  made  of,  and  the  glass 
that  covers  it.     Ask  her  that.  Mo  Piti." 

Mrs.  Hayward  felt  her  position  of  interpreter  as  a  rather  undignified  one, 
but  she  wag  sure  that  Mam  Tel's  counter  charges  and  questions  would  probably 
be  the  best  vindication  and  explanation  of  Mam  Tel's  apparent  heresy,  of  which 
heresy,  Rita  was  shrewd  enough  to  know,  Abigail  held  her  not  entirely  guilt- 
less. 

Abigail  listened  as  Eita  translated  Mam  Tel's  queries,  her  first  astonish- 
ment giving  place  to  incredulity  and  finally  to  anger. 

"Me,  adore  senseless  pieces  of  paper!  Don't  she  know  better  than  thati 
Didn't  I  tell  her  only  yesterday  that  that  was  the  likeness  of  my  dear  old 
mother,  for  whom  I  cared  as  long  as  she  lived,  and  whose  likeness  is  all  I  have 
to  remind  me  of  all  I  loved  in  this  world,  and  of  all  I've  lost!  I  always  kiss  her 
good-night,  while  if  I've  done  as  I  know  she  would  like  to  see  me  do,  it  seems  to 
nie  she  smiles,  and  when  I  look  at  her  dear  face,  it  gives  me  courage  to  bear 
the  trials  of  this  life,  and  sometimes  I  think  I  hear  her  voice  praising  or  blam- 
ing me,  as  I  deserve."  Abigail's  plain  features  and  voice  had  lost  all  their  as- 
perity and  were  transfigured  by  her  overmastering  filial  devotion. 

Mam  Tel  had  listened,  not  unmoved,  as  the  words  fell  slowly  from  Abigail's 
lips.     As  the  latter  ceased.  Mam  Tel  said  slowly: 

"Yes,  Miss  Abigail,  you  did  tell  me  dat  was  your  mother's  picture,  but  I 
just  said  it  because  I  wanted  you  to  say  what  you  told  me  before,  and  I  wants 
to  ask  you,  can't  you  think  dat  I  can  love  the  mother  of  my  God  as  well  as 
ycu  can  love  your  sure  enough  mother?    Don't  you  know  that  when  I  see  her 


54  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

image  with  the  little  Jesus  in  her  arms  that  I'se  bound  to  think  of  all  the  love 
and  care  she  gave  my  Saviour,  and  it  'minds  me  that  the  good  Saviour  gave 
her  to  me  as  my  mother  when  he  was  dying  on  the  cross  for  all  us  poor  Sin- 
ners? And  when  I  looks  at  my  crucifix,  ain't  I  bound  to  think  how  the  Saviour 
Biiffered  and  died  on  the  cross  for  me?  And  when  I  looks  at  those  nail  holes  in 
His  hands  and  feet,  and  see  that  ugly  wound  in  his  side,  don't  you  know,  Miss 
Abigail,  I  can  bring  it  all  afore  me  a  heaps  better  than  just  telling  about  it,  and 
I'se  just  bound  to  feel  sorry  for  anything  I'se  done,  what's  wrong,  just  like 
if  you  hear  of  somebody  getting  hurt,  you  feel  sorry  of  course,  but  if  you  see 
the  wounds  and  the  blood  aflowing,  and  hear  the  groans,  you  just  'bleeged  to  do 
scmething  for  the  poor  soul.  No,  Miss  Abigail,  even  a  poor,  ignorant  slave,  if 
she's  a  Catholic,  knows  better  than  to  worship  them  trifling  things  what  you 
dene  destroyed  with  a  sweep  of  your  hand." 

Abigail  stood  silent.  Still  under  the  influence  of  her  own  softening  emo- 
tions, she  was  the  more  ready  to  accept  Mam  Tel's  explanation  of  her  faith,  but 
the  beliefs  of  a  life  time  could  scarcely  be  expected  to  give  way  entirely  to  new 
convictions,  and  Rita  knew  it  to  be  the  wiser  part  not  to  ask  for  a  recantation, 
but  said  gently: 

"Abigail,  I  shall  replace  as  I  said,  as  far  as  I  can,  the  things  that  have 
been  destroyed,  though  I  cannot  give  to  the  new  the  memories  Mam  Tel  at- 
tached to  the  old.  I  was  going  to  appeal  to  Mrs.  Hayward  for  a  key  to  Mam 
Tel's  room.  I  feel  sure  that  that  is  now  unnecessary,  for  I  am  convinced  that 
you  will  no  more  be  tempted  to  repeat  what  you  have  done  to-day,  than  Mam 
Tel  would  be  to  destroy  your  mother's  picture." 

That  evening  Rita  related  the  foregoing  incidents  to  the  assembled  family. 

"Good  for  the  old  lady!"  her  husband  exclaimed.  "She'd  have  been  a 
worthy  servitor  in  the  home  of  the  early  pilgrims.  I  certainly  would  have  en- 
joyed seeing  or  rather  hearing,  that  Set-to  between  Abigail  and  that  prime 
specimen  of  the  down-trodden  slave,  who  seems  to  know  her  rights  and  how  to 
maintain  them.  It  must  have  been  rich!"  and  he  laughed  immoderately  at  the 
picture  painted  by  his  imagination. 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TA.LE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  55 

Rita  looked  at  him  reprovingly.  ''I  could  see  nothing  laughable  in  Abigail's 
ignorance  and  frenzied  zeal,  nor  in  Mam  Tel's  sorrow  and  despair." 

"What  a  pity  Mam  Tel's  arguments  cannot  find  their  way  to  those  who 
pride  themselves  on  their  superiority  to  both  Mam  Tel  and  Abigail.  I,  for  one, 
am  delighted  to  have  heard  Mam  Tel's  logical  expose  of  her  faith;  a  thing 
scarcely  to  be  expected  from  one  as  ignorant  as  she,"  Claire  said  quickly. 

"That  depends  on  what  you  call  ignorance.  'A  little  learning  is  a  danger- 
ous thing,'  so  I  cannot  claim  to  be  the  discoverer  of  the  truism  that  ignorance 
is  often  preferable  to  a  mere  smattering.  Mam  Tel  is  a  good  example  of  what 
I  mean.  She  does  not  know  one  letter  from  the  other,  and  I  fear  has  no  ambition 
to  learn,  but  when  it  comes  to  a  question  of  faith  and  morals,  a  correct  code  of 
right  living,  an  entire  self-abnegation  for  those  she  loves,  she  can  easily  distance 
many  who  believe  themselves  her  superiors.  After  all,  is  not  this  the  best  of 
learning?  I,  for  one,  can  testify  that  I  am  truly  indebted  to  her  for  boundless 
affection,  good  counsels,  and  sleepless  watchfulness  over  my  childhood.  In  fact, 
her  very  presence  here  is  a  proof  of  that  self-abnegation  of  which  I  speak.  My 
mother  had  had  Mam  Tel  as  her  waiting  maid  from  her  earliest  childhood.  Mam 
Tel's  mother  having  been  her  nurse,  and  bonds  of  closest  affection  existed  be- 
tween them.  When  the  question  of  my  leaving  home  came  up,  Mam  Tel  came  to 
my  mother.  'Mamselle  Estelle,  (the  old-time  slave  never  uses  the  title  'Madam' 
to  her  young  mistress)  'I'm  going  up  there  with  Mo  Piti! ' 

"  'Why,  Mam  Tel,'  exclaimed  my  mother,  'what  put  such  an  idea  into  your 
head?  You  will  be  a  long  way  from  home,  among  a  strange  people  whose  ways 
you  won't  understand.' 

"And  won't  Mo  Piti  be  there,  too?  I  don't  like  to  leave  you  or  Master 
Victor,  but  it's  Mamselle  Rita  that  needs  me  most." 

Rita  suppressed  the  last,  and  to  Mam  Tel,  the  clinching  argument:  "I  don't 
like  that  Yankee  man  she's  married  and  I'se  bound  to  be  there  to  take  care 
of  her.    If  I's  wrong,  then  in  a  few  years  I  can  come  back! " 

"Then  you  hold  that  where  ignorance  is  bliss  'tis  folly  to  be  wise?" 

"Not  exactly,  but  as  between  Mam  Tel's  creed  and  a  little  smattering  of 
grammar,  geography,  and  reading,  I  prefer  Mam  Tel's  education!" 


56  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

"How  do  you  account  for  such  extremes  in  one  person?  How  did  a  alave 
acquire  the  one  without  the  other?"  asked  Mrs.  Hay  ward. 

"Easily.  In  the  first  place,  the  Catholic  Church  admits  none  to  the  sacra- 
ments who  does  not  fully  understand  her  tenets  and  subscribes  to  them.  As 
the  largest  number  of  'slaves  could  not  read,  it  becomes  the  bounden  duty  of  the 
priest  to  teach  orally  for  years  the  truths  contained  in  her  catechism.  These 
lessons  were  often  supplemented  by  lessons  in  the  households  of  truth,  honesty, 
obedience,  and  respect  for  authority,  both  secular  and  religious,  the  one  Bup- 
plementing  the  other. 

"A  pretty  shrewd  policy,"  cynically  remarked  Mrs.  Hayward,  "which  savors 
as  much  of  self-interest  as  of  religion." 

Rita  colored.  "Undoubtedly!  But,  granting  the  motive  not  to  be  disinterest- 
ed, the  effect  was  unassailable.  It  made  the  slaves,  as  a  rule,  docile,  tractable, 
happier  far  than  those  trained  by  other  methods." 

"Take  care,  Rita,  you  are  treading  on  dangerous  ground,"  warned  Captain 
Kayward.    "Catholic  doctrines  are  dangerous  enough,  but  slavery  is  worse." 

Mrs.  Hayward  had  so  far  taken  no  part  in  the  discussion,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  words  quoted  above,  but  sat  rigid  and  uncompromising.  Now  she 
relaxed  enough  to  say:  "Unpleasant  subjects  are  best  let  alone,  yet  I  am 
sure  Rita's,  or  rather  Mam  Tel's  plausible  arguments,  are  at  least  enlightening, 
if  not  entirely  convincing,  in  explaining  the  meretricious  ornaments  in  the 
Romish  Churches." 

Claire  and  the  Captain  laughed,  and  the  latter  Said:  "There  mother,  I 
knew  your  silence  boded  no  good!  *A  woman  convinced  against  her  will  is  of 
the  same  opinion  still.'  " 

Rita  looked  bewildered.  "Surely  you,  like  Abigail,  do  not  believe  we  Cath- 
olics worship  statues,  paintings,  etc?  It  would  be  an  insult  to  my  sanity,  to  say 
nothing  of  my  intelligence,  to  think  so  monstrous  a  thing  as  that  I,  and  the 
millions  like  me,  could  give  to  senseless  things  the  powers  that  belong  to  God 
alone!"  Rita  felt  her  face  crimsoning  with  rising  indignation,  but  with  a 
powerful  effort,  she  controlled  her  feelings,  and  added:  "But,  there!  how  fool- 
ish of  me!     Pardon  me  for  misunderstanding  you  even  for  a  moment,"  and 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  57 

leaning  over,  she  laid  her  hand,  with  an  appealing  and  affectionate  gesture, 
on  the  elderly  lady's  arm. 

' '  There,  Mother,  don 't  say  anything, ' '  said  the  Captain,  '  *  or  Rita  maj 
put  you  in  the  category  of  that  lady  who,  on  being  told  that  Mrs.  Levilliet 
was  a  Catholic,  exclaimed:  "Why,  you  a  Catholic!  I  thought  it  was  only  the  ig- 
norant who  belonged  to  that  church! '  I  have  often  heard  my  mother-in-law 
laugh  over  the  incident,  and,  with  mischief  in  her  eye,  declare  how  sorely  tempted 
she  was  to  give  the  retort  (dis)  courteous  by  replying:  'My  dear  Madam,  if  ig- 
norance was  the  only  qualification,  you  would  certainly  occupy  an  exalted  rank  in 
the  Catholic  hierarchy! '  So  pray  be  gentle  with  Rita  and  impart  your  opinions  on 
Catholics  in  general  in  broken  doses.  You  might  otherwise  overwhelm  her. 
'Handle  her  gently,  softly,  with  care,'  and  she  may  perchance  appreciate  your 
peculiar  views  on  the  subject." 

Mrs.  Hayward's  face  relaxed  neither  at  Rita's  affectionate  apology,  nor  at 
her  son's  nagging.  An  embarrassed  silence  fell  upon  the  quartette.  It  had  al- 
most become  unbearable,  when  Rita's  eyes  chanced  to  fall  on  a  large  engraving 
that  was  half  concealed  by  the  shadow  of  the  open  door. 

"What  a  handsome  engraving!  I  cannot  read  the  title,  but  what  is  the 
subject?"  she  asked,  anxious  to  divert  the  current  of  their  thoughts  from  the 
unpleasant  subject. 

The  worried  look  on  Claire's  face,  and  the  comic  smile  that  lurked  in  the 
corners  of  her  husband's  mouth,  as  well  as  the  increased  unpleasantness  on  Mrs. 
Hayward's  face,  told  Rita  that  she  had  blundered  in  some  inexplicable  way.  She 
was  therefore  not  unprepared  for  Mrs.  Hayward's  reply. 

"That,  my  dear,  is  the  martyrdom  of  the  victims  of  the  Inquisition,  the 
death  by  fire  of  the  forerunner  of  the  Reformation;  that  monk  whose  name 
should  ever  be  linked  with  that  of  Luther." 

"Do  you  mean  Savanarola?" 

"Most  certainly,  and  even  you  can  give  no  good  and  sufficient  reason  why 
he  should  not  be  venerated  by  those  who  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  Luther 
and  Calvin." 


58  RIGHT  OR  WROTJG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

Eita  smiled.  Her  better  judgment  bade  her  ignore  the  challenge;  her  com- 
bative spirit,  and  her  sense  of  justice  urged  her  to  reply. 

The  woman  who  hesitates  is  lost.  Claire,  seeing  Rita's  hesitation,  but 
not  comprehending  its  cause,  said  smilingly:  "I  believe,  Rita,  you  have  met 
your  religious  Waterloo.    Auntie  has  asked  you  an  unanswerable  question." 

"That  is  a  matter  of  opinion,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "Auntie,"  she  had 
adopted  Claire's  way  of  addressing  Mrs.  Hayward,  "looks  upon  Savanarola  as 
the  precursor  of  Luther,  while  I  look  upon  him  almost  as  a  saint  and  martyr  of 
the  church.  Pope  Paul  IV  declared  all  of  Savanarola 's  doctrines  orthodox.  He 
was  a  monk,  and  fulfilled  all  the  duties  of  an  orthodox  Catholic,  and  died  in 
full  communion  with  the  church." 

"What  proof  have  you  of  that?"  asked  Mrs.  Hayward  curtly. 

"None  at  hand,  and  you  must  take  my  word  and  recollections  as  proof. 
Bayle,  who  I  am  sure  will  never  pass  for  an  apologist  of  Savanarola,  ajjproving 
as  he  does  his  condemnation,  and  calling  him  very  hard  names,  adds:  "Is  it 
not  strange  that  Protestants  should  place  among  their  martyrs  a  monk  who  al- 
ways celebrated  mass  during  his  life,  and  at  his  death,  went  to  confession,  took 
the  holy  Eucharist,  making  an  act  of  faith  in  the  Real  Presence  and  receiving 
humbly  the  plenary  indulgence  sent  him  by  the  sovereign  pontiff.'  " 

"Then  how  do  you  account  for  his  execution?"  Claire  asked  timidly. 

"Savanarola  was  not  only  a  monk,  but  a  political  reformer  in  the  best 
sense  of  the  word.  His  ineffectual  efforts  in  the  reformation  of  irregularities 
within  the  church,  which,  after  long  delay,  culminated  in  the  Council  of  Trent, 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  prominent  part  taken  by  Savanarola  in  the  expulsion  of 
the  Medici  and  the  establishment  of  a  Republic  in  Florence,  were  the  religious 
and  political  crimes  which  he  expiated  on  the  scaffold." 

"You  cannot  approve  of  religious  persecution  and  martyrdom?"  asked  Mrs. 
Hayward  severely. 

"No,  indeed.  Auntie,  no  more  than  you  probably  condone  the  burning  of 
witches,  or  the  expulsion  of  Roger  Williams  for  righteousness'  sake,  by  your 
pilgrim  ancestors.  And  yet,  wiser  heads  than  mine  have,  by  deed  as  well  as 
word,  asquiesced  in  the  doctrine,  held  in  the  middle  ages,  that  heresy  was     a 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  59 

social,  as  well  as  a  religious  crime,  and  punishable  by  death,  Huss  accepted  that 
verdict  when  he  exclaimed:  *If  my  doctrines  are  really  erroneous,  I  deserve 
death.'  Did  not  Calvin  condemn  to  the  most  horrible  torture  Michael  Servet,  the 
author  of  a  treatise  against  the  Trinity,  for  which  good  deed  Melancthon,  the 
gentle  Melancthon,  wrote  congratulating  and  thanking  him  for  his  zeal  in  this 
matter  in  these  or  words  of  like  import:  'I  subscribe  with  my  whole  heart  your 
sentence,  and  believe  that  you  used  your  authority  in  a  most  legitimate  manner, 
in  giving  to  the  executioner,  after  all  judicial  information,  such  an  awful  blas- 
phemer.' I  quote  from  memory,  but  those  words  are  pretty  nearly  right.  But 
don't  think  that  I  subscribe  to  such  sentiments.  I'm  too  good  an  American  of 
the  present  day  and  generation  to  believe  in  persecution,  either  religious  or 
political. ' '     ^ 

"More's  the  pity  that  others  don't  share  those  sentiments,"  declared  Cap- 
tain Hayward.  "  If  I  am  to  judge  by  my  personal  experience,  I  should  say  that 
the  spirit  of  intolerance  in  this  country  is  in  as  flourishing  a  condition  as  in 
the  days  of  Cotton  Mather,  and  though  my  good  fellow  men  may  not  cry,  'to 
the  stake  with  him,'  for  the  good  and  sufficient  reason  that  they  cannot,  yet,  I 
suspect  that,  before  long,  I  may  wish  that  a  short  shrift  was  not  out  of  fash- 
ion. Here  I've  been  two  weeks  in  this  town,  where  pretty  much  every  one  knew 
me  as  boy  and  man,  and  yet  not  a  friendly  hand  has  been  extended  to  me,  and 
averted  looks  meet  me  on  every  side.  I  begin  to  think,  Eita,  you  will  prove  in- 
deed, *my  pearl  of  great  price/  " 

"Oh,  James,  don't  say  that!  You  cannot  mean  that  your  people  won't  have 
anything  to  do  with  you  because  you  married  me." 

"Well,  something  very  like  it.  Of  all  my  old  friends  and  clients,  not  one 
has  come  to  bid  me  welcome  or  has  entrusted  a  ease  to  me." 

"But  what  have  I  to  do  with  that!" 

"You  forget  that,  to  marry  you,  James  accepted  your  religious  beliefs  and 
resigned  his  commission  in  the  Union  Army,"  quietly  answered  Mrs.  Hayward. 
'  *  Perhaps,  had  he  done  either  one  or  the  other,  some  might  have  forgiven  him, 
but  to  forgive  both  is  more  than  is  to  be  expected.  'As  he  has  made  his  bed, 
so  must  he  lie  on  it.'  " 


60  RiaHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

The  events  of  the  day  had  unconsciously  drawn  heavily  on  Rita's  nerve 
force,  and  now,  the  sudden  revelation  of  the  consequence  of  the  price  she  had 
exacted,  came  with  stunning  effect  on  her  highly  sensitive  organism.  Rising  aad- 
denly,  she  threw  her  arms  around  her  husband,  and  sobbed  out,  "Oh,  James,  I 
could  never  have  foreseen  such  injustice!  Can  I  do  anything  to  help  youf " 

"Not  much,  unless  you  can  take  my  place  as  a  common  soldier  in  the 
ranks,  as  some  one  suggested  I  should  do." 

"You  don't  mean  to  do  that,  James?" 

"No,  indeed,  my  dear.  After  having  been  Captain  Hayward,  I'd  scarcely 
relish  becoming  Private  Hayward.    I  have  seen  too  much,  for  that." 

' '  Perhaps  your  nonattendance  at  our  old  house  of  -worship  may  have  some- 
tliing  to  do  with  this  treatment  of  which  you  complain,"  said  his  mother.  "Mrs. 
Amos  EUingsworth  asked  me  why  you  and  your  wife  had  not  been  seen  at  meet- 
ing on  the  Sabbath." 

"I  see  Mrs.  EUingsworth  is  as  great  a  gossip  as  she  used  to  be.  Well,  should 
;^ny  one  else  ask  you  about  my  religious  belief,  tell  them  I  became  a  Catholic 
jto  marry  my  wife  and  that  I  am  almost  as  good  a  member  of  that  church  as  I 
was  a  good  Protestant,"  declared  Captain  Hayward  defiantly.  "How  good 
that  was.  Mother,  you  can  probably  enlighten  them." 

"Oh,  James!"  simultaneously  exclaimed  both  wife  and  mother,  and  the 
latter  said  reproachfully:  "If  I  found  any  solace  in  your  adoption  of  the 
Catholic  faith,  it  was  that  you  must  have  given  up  your  blasphemies  and  your 
irreligion. ' ' 

* '  Well,  I  haven 't, ' '  declared  the  captain,  as  he  abruptly  left  the  room. 


EIGHT  OR  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  61 


UHAPTEK  IX. 

"Eita,  -what  is  a  hoodoo  or  voudou?"  questioned  Claire,  one  morning,  after 
breakfast. 

"Pray,  wliat  do  you  know  of  voudous?"  retorted  Rita,  laughing  at  Claire's 
evidently  serious  question. 

"Mot  much,  since  I  come  to  you  for  enlightenment;  but  Abigail  seems  to 
know  a  great  deal  about  it,  and  declares  she  fears  Mam  Tel's  powers  in  that 
direction. ' ' 

"Poor  Mam  Tel!  She  would  certainly  be  dreadfully  hurt  if  she  suspected 
that  she  was  accused  of  dabbling  in  that  black  art,  which,  in  spite  of  her  real 
religious  training,  is  hers  by  heredity,  and  consequently  hard  to  eradicate,  be- 
cause, although  the  grossest  superstition  is  the  superstructure,  it  is  reared  on 
a  religion  or  cult,  idolatrous,  it  is  true,  but  very  genuine  to  its  followers  and 
very  terrifying  to  the  masses.  The  power  which  its  followers  are  said  to  wield 
are  certainly  sufficient  to  strike  terror  in  the  hearts  of  the  ignorant,  even 
though  the  methods  employed  seem  very  absurd  and  inadequate  to  the  end." 

"Pray  explain." 

"Voudouism  is  the  worship  of  evil  under  the  form  of  the  serpent.  It  was 
introduced  into  the  colonies  by  the  slaves  brought  from  Africa.  On  the  eve 
of  the  Feast  of  St.  John,  which  falls  in  midsummer,  the  votaries  of  voudouism 
assemble  at  midnight  in  some  remote  spot,  and  give  themselves  up  to  inde- 
scribable orgies,  which  include  bloody  sacrifices,  even  young  children  having 
been  sometimes  used  as  holocausts.  Of  this,  they  have  been  accused  and  con- 
victed on  the  West  India  Islands,  but  in  New  Orleans,  although  there  have 
been  rumors  of  such  horrors,  no  proofs  have  been  adduced,  though  the  police 
have  been  keenly  on  the  alert  at  the  appointed  time,  and  so  far  as  my  knowl- 
edge goes,  the  matter  has  degenerated,  if  I  can  so  express  it,  into  very  silly 
practices.     The  priests  or  doctors  sell  charms  and  amulets  against  every  ill  to 


62  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

which  flesh  is  heir,  and  powders  and  decoctions,  that  may  or  may  not  be  quite 
harmless.  Bo  far  as  my  personal  knowledge  goes,  I  have  been  very  much 
amused  by  the  unearthing  in  feather  pillows  and  beds,  of  coffins,  snakes, 
crosses  and  other  figures  whose  like  never  existed  on  earth,  in  the  heavens 
above,  or  in  the  waters  beneath,  all  cut  out  of  pieces  of  cloth  of  various  hues 
and  quality.  It  would  be  amusing  if  it  were  not  pitiful  to  see  the  terror  that 
such  things,  or  others  equally  harmless,  seem  to  inspire  in  believers  in  the  power 
for  harm  of  these  objects.  I  was  once  passing  in  Royal  street,  when  a  boy, 
evidently  just  out  of  school,  came  along,  and  with  a  bit  of  probably  purloined 
ehalk,  whistling  merrily  as  he  went,  marked  on  every  available  space,  doors, 
windows,  fences  and  door-steps,  the  signs  of  addition,  subtraction,  multiplica- 
tion and  division.  Suddenly,  a  woman  pounced  out  of  a  door  just  ahead  of  him, 
and  seizing  him  by  the  shoulders,  shook  him  violently,  and,  taking  the  chalk 
from  him,  threw  it  into  the  middle  of  the  street, 

"You  can  hoodoo  them  who'll  let  you,"  she  cried,  "but  you  can't  come  such 
didoes  on  me  while  I've  got  strength  enough  to  keep  you  from  a-doing  of  it!" 

"What  is  the  difference  between  hoodoo  and  voudou?" 

"None  whatever — Hoodoo  is  a  corruption  of  the  other,  but  'hoodoo'  has 
degenerated  into  a  more  secular  than  religious  meaning,  and  is  often  used  in 
the  sense  that  we  use  'Jonah,'  signifying  an  unlucky  person,  or  one  who 
brings  ill-luck  to  another.  But  to  go  back  to  Abigail.  What  does  she  know 
about  voudouism,  and  why  does  she  suspect  Mam  Tel  of  being  one  of  its  vota- 
ries?" 

"Abigail's  father,  it  seems,  used  to  trade  to  the  West  Indies,  and  was  in 
the  habit  of  telling  her  of  the  doings  of  the  black  people  he  met  there,  and 
she  has  kept  a  vivid  picture  of  his  sayings."     Claire  stopped. 

"But  Mam  Tel;  why  suspect  her?" 

Claire  looked  embarrassed.  "Why,  you  see,  Abigail  keeps  a  pretty  sharp 
lookout  on  Mam  Tel — " 

"And  watches  her  as  a  cat  does  a  mouse,"  added  Rita.  Claire  laughed  and 
nodded. 


RIGHT  OE  \^EO'NG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  63 

"What  has  she  discovered?" 

"It  seems  that  several  times  she  has  caught  sight  of  Mam  Tel  as  she  was 
dressing,  and  she  declares  that  she  has  a  string  around  her  neck,  with  littto 
bags  at  both  ends,  to  which  are  sewed  pieces  of  brass  and  silver.  Abigail  ed- 
clares  those  are  the  charms  her  father  told  her  about,  and  that  Mam  Tel  is  thus 
trying  to  work  an  evil  spell  on  us  all  and  herself,  Abigail,  in  particular." 

Laurita  laughed  long  and  heartily.  "Mam  Tel  is  not  the  only  one  who 
wears  those  charms.  See  here,"  and  she  drew  from  her  bosom  a  small  square 
of  brown  cloth,  faced  with  silk,  on  which  was  embroidered  the  image  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  and  Child,  and  to  which  was  attached  a  small  gold  crucifix  and 
medal. 

"Are  you  sure  that  that  is  what  Abigail  saw  around  Mam  Tel's  neck?" 

"As  sure  as  I  am  of  my  own  existence.  She  and  I  belong  to  that  great 
army  of  servants  of  Mary  who  wear  the  scapulars  as  our  badge  of  servitude. 

It  may  differ  in  texture,  just  as  Mam  Tel's  is  cotton  and  mine  silk,  but  their 
meaning  is  the  same,  proclaiming  our  allegiance  to  the  Mother  of  God,  and  our 
belief  in  her  care  and  protection." 

"You  certainly  attach  no  faith  in  those  bits  of  silk  or  cotton?"  asked 
Claire  hesitatingly. 

"No,  but  in  the  prayer  which  we  are  reminded  to  say  when  we  wear  it. 
By  the  way,  Claire,  why  do  you  wear  that  bit  of  white  ribbon  constantly?" 

Claire  saw  the  point  and  laughingly  replied:  "Because  I'm  a  white  rib- 
boner;  that  is,  I'm  a  firm  believer  in  total  abstinence,  and  want  everyone  to 
see  it," 

"According  to  that,  I  should  wear  my  scapular  on  the  outside  of  my  dress, 
but  you  see,  we  are  only  required  to  wear  it  hidden  from  the  view  of  all  save 
Her  whose  badge  it  is." 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  you  and  Mam  Tel  belong  to  the  same  society  ot 
association?" 

"in  the  same  association  of  prayer,  yes." 

"And  you  a  Southerner,  and,  as  I  believe,  a  strong  believer  in  classes  and 
castes!     I  don't  follow  you." 


64  BIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

"I  might  reply  I  am  a  Catholic  first,  and  a  Southerner  afterwards,  but 
that  does  not  express  my  meaning.  The  Catholic  Church  is  the  most  consistent 
republic  on  earth.  The  humblest  of  her  priests,  one  day,  may  become  the 
Sovereign  Pontiff  the  next,  for  the  Church  chooses  its  head  by  ballots,  whose 
purity  is  safe — guarded  by  prayer,  by  isolation  from  all  outside  influences, 
whether  personal  or  political,  and  by  constant  invocation  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
that  he  may  direct  the  choice  of  the  Cardinals  assembled  from  all  parts  of  the 
earth  for  that  purpose.  But  once  elected  to  the  throne  of  Peter,  his  dictum 
in  matters  of  faith  and  morals,  is  a  law  which  none  may  question." 

"That  is  what  you  call  the  'infallibility  of  the  Pope,'  is  it  not?" 

Rita  looked  the  astonishment  she  felt.  She  had  never  approached  that 
question  with  non-Catholies  without  having  to  explain  that  doctrine,  after  hear- 
ing it  travestied  into  personal  sinlessness  in  the  man. 

Claire  answered  the  questioning  surprise  in  Rita's  face. 

"I  see  I  am  right  for  once." 

"How  did  you  arrive  at  such  a  correct  conclusion,  Claire f" 

"it  was  not  a  very  difficult  effort.  You  had  had  occasion  to  correct  so 
many  of  my  errors  in  regard  to  your  faith,  that  I  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that 
iere  was  the  answer  to  another  of  the  absurdities  I  had  heard  attributed  to  your 
Church,  composed  though,  it  is  of  millions  of  enlightened  and  intelligent  men 
and  women,  to  whom  the  doctrine  of  personal  impeccability  would  be  unreason- 
able.    Am  I  not  progressing  f" 

"May  that  progress  continue  until,  finally,  you  become  a  member  of  the 
one  flock  under  one  shepherd!"  and  Rita  threw  her  arms  around  the  girl  she 
loved  so  dearly. 

Claire  accepted  the  caress  without  returning  it.  "My  dear  Rita,  it  is  a 
long  step  between  throwing  off  foolish  prejudice,  and  accepting  blindly  the 
reverse.  But  we  have  wandered  from  our  subject.  I  am  yet  to  understand 
how  you  and  Mam  Tel  can  belong  to  the  rank  and  file  in  the  same  Church  while 
occupying  such  opposite  positions  in  the  social  world." 

"There  is  nothing  strange  in  that,  if  you  only  remember  that  Christ  died 
to  save  all  men,  not  the  high  or  the  low,  the  learned,  or  the  ignorant;   and 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  65 

yet,  God  himself,  did  not  create  beings  all  equal  in  rank  and  power,  as  witness, 
angela,  archangels,  cherubim  and  seraphim.  Adam  and  Eve  each  had  their 
separate  spheres,  marked  out  tor  them,  and  in  their  punishment,  after  their 
fall,  that  inequality  was  maintained.  Mam  Tel  and  I,  socially  and  physically, 
were  born  unlike,  yet  spiritually  we  are  equal,  children  of  the  same  God,  saved 
by  the  same  Redeemer,  partakers  of  the  same  sacraments,  and  heirs  to  the 
same  punishments  and  rewards  hereafter;  consequently,  she  is  not  only  my 
equal  spiritually,  but  she  might  even  be  my  superior." 

"What  an  extraordinary  admission!"  exclaimed  Claire,  bewildered  by 
Rita's  unexpected  reasoning.  "How  can  you  reconcile  such  doctrines  with  your 
attitude  of  superiority  towards  Mam  Tel,  and  those  of  her  race,  or,  for  that 
matter,  of  those  of  Caucasian  blood  on  whom  you  undoubtedly  look  as  your  in- 
feriors?" 

"By  the  very  act  of  acknowledging  a  common  spiritual  origin,  we  accept 
as  the  decree  of  His  infinite  wisdom,  the  station,  in  this  life,  in  which  he  has 
placed  us,  and  are  bound  by  the  duties,  the  exigencies  and  the  limitations  of 
that  position,  whether  it  be  a  Pope  or  a  Hottentot,  a  king  or  a  peasant,  and 
each  must  live  up  to  the  highest  ideals  given  him.  As  I  said  before,  God  made 
distinctions  in  His  creatures  from  all  eternity,  and  in  establishing  His  Church 
on  earth,  Christ  put  Peter  in  a  pre-eminent  position  with  the  words:  'Thou  art 
Peter,  and  on  this  rock  I  will  build  My  Church,  and  the  gates  of  HeU  shall 
not  prevail  against  it!'  That  Church  has  followed  this  example,  and  its  mem' 
bers  are  divided  into  graded  ranks.  Some  must  command,  and  some  must  obey, 
some  must  lead,  and  some  follow;  the  higher  the  position,  the  greater  the 
responsibility.  Let  me  illustrate  my  meaning  by  a  rather  comical  incident  in 
Mamma's  experience  with  one  of  the  newly  enfranchised.  Nancy  was  very 
black,  a  good  worker,  conscientious  as  she  understood  her  duty  to  the  extent  of 
her  wages,  honest  as  the  negro  goes,  but  decidedly  inclined  to  uphold  her 
equality  with  the  white  folks  in  general,  and  her  former  mistress  in  particular. 

"Several  times  this  subject  had  come  very  near  causing  a  clash,  but 
Mamma,  not  wishing  to  lose  a  good  servant,  adroitly  managed  to  avoid  any 


66  EIGHT  OR  WKONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

discussion  on  the  subject,  until,  one  day,  hearing  some  unusually  loud  talking 
in  the  kitchen,  she  found  Nancy  in  a  rage  at  some  inadvertent  remark  she  had 
overheard  a  neighbor  make  on  class  distinctions. 

"  'Dat  white  'ooman  talks  as  if  we  culled  people  wasn't  as  good  aa  ehe 
is!'  Nancy  cried,  as  Mamma  entered  the  kitchen,  and  suddenly  turning  to 
Mamma:  'Madam,  don't  you  think  I'se  just  as  much  a  lady  as  Mrs.  TompkinsT' 

"  '1  certainly  do  not,  Nancy,'  Mamma  quietly  replied,  sure  that  the  mo- 
ment of  parting  had  come. 

"The  very  boldness  of  the  answer  evidently  took  Nancy  by  surprise,  an<i 
instead  of  becoming  vituperative,  as  Mamma  anticipated,  she  said  in  a  deprecat- 
ing tone:  'Why,  Madame,  didn't  God  make  me  and  you  alike,  even  if  He  made 
my  skin  black  and  yours  white?  Don't  it  feel  just  like  yourn,  and  ain't  my 
blood  red  just  like  yourn?' 

"  'All  that's  true  enough,  Nancy,  and  yet,  a  hundred  years  from  now,  if  a 
learned  man  was  to  see  both  our  skulls  he'd  pick  yours  up  and  say,  "This  skull 
once  belonged  to  an  Ethiopian,"  and  picking  mine  up  he'd  say,  "And  this  was 
the  skull  of  a  white  woman."  So  you  see,  Nancy,  the  difference  is  deeper  than 
the  flesh.' 

'  *  This  reasoning  was  too  deep  for  Nancy,  and  she  pondered  a  moment  before 
replying:  'I  bleeged  to  believe  you.  Madam,  but  the  good  book  don't  say 
heaven's  made  just  for  white  people.' 

"  'No,  indeed,  Nancy,  and  yet  our  chances  in  the  other  world  won't  be 
alike. ' 

"This  was  a  little  more  than  Nancy's  equanimity  could  endure,  and  her 
ire  was  about  to  burst  out  in  fierce  invectives,  when  Mamma  said,  quietly: 
'Now,  Nancy,  listen  to  me.  I  don't  mean  that  your  chances  for  heaven  are  not 
as  good  as  mine;  in  fact,  they  may  be  a  little  better,  but  all  the  same,  we 
won't  stand  on  the  same  level  when  we  knock  at  heaven's  gate.  When  St. 
Peter  sees  you,  he  will  look  at  you  and  say^  "Well,  Nancy,  you  were  born  and 
lived  a  poor,  ignorant  slave,  the  child  of  slaves;  you  had  few  opportunities  to 
know  right  from  wrong,  but  take  it  all  in  ail,  you've  done  pretty  well  accord- 
ing to  your  lights,  so  I  guess  I'll  have  to  let  you  in!"    But  when  it  comes  my 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  67 

turn,  he  will  say:  "Mrs.  Levillier,  you  were  given  good,  Christian  parents,  a 
good  education,  money  that  should  have  kept  you  from  the  ordinary  temptations 
which  beset  your  less-favored  sisters.  On  you  was  laid  the  responsibility  of 
caring  for  the  souls,  as  well  as  the  bodies,  of  the  slaves  that  called  you  mistress- 
You  have  been  given  great  opportunities  for  good  and  evil;  how'  have  you 
used  these  opportunities?  And,  Nancy,  he's  going  to  search  my  every  thought, 
action  and  word,  and  woe  be  to  me  if  he  does  not  find  the  record  clean.  So 
you  see,  Nancy,  there  will  be  no  equality  in  heaven  any  more  than  there  is  on 
earth! ' 

"Nancy  stood  abashed  for  a  moment. 

"  'Well,  Mistress,  you  is  a  queer  woman!  I  never  hearn  no  preacher  talk 
like  dat,  but  I  guess  you  is  about  right,'  was  Nancy's  final  comment." 

Claire  laughed.  "I  think  I  will  have  to  echo  Nancy's  words.  You  are  a 
queer  woman,  Eita." 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"It  must  be  beautiful  to  have  such  perfect  faith  as  yours,  Rita,"  said 
Claire  one  evening  as  they  sat  together. 

"Perfect  faith!  Why,  my  dear  Claire,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  talic- 
ing  about!  You  all  laughed  heartily  and  thought  it  a  huge  joke  on  phrenology, 
in  general,  and  Mr.  Weston  in  particular,  when  he  declared  that  here  was  a 
woman  who  believed  only  what  she  could  see  and  hear;  yet  he  told  the  absolute 
truth.  I  am  a  born  Agnostic,  and,  if  I  listened  to  my  evil  promptings,  would 
cast  all  faith  to  the  winds.  But,  thanks  to  the  Great  Power  who  created  me,  I 
am  able  to  exercise  the  free  will  according  to  which  each  and  everyone  of  us 
becomes  the  agent  of  his  or  her  own  salvation.  Strange  as  it  may  seem  to 
you,  there  is  a  constant  struggle  between  my  intellectual  self,  if  I  can  so 
express  it,  and  my  reasoning  faculties,  aided  and  abetted  by  my  strong  desire 
to  accept  blindly  what  I  cannot  understand." 

"Well,"  laughingly  said  Claire,  "that  is  certainly  an  anomaly!  But  you 
surely  would  not  have  me  believe  that  you  can  reason  yourself  into  accepting 
the  dogmas  and  teachings  of  the  Catholic  Church,  which  to  my  ignorant,  yet,  1 
trust,  unprejudiced  mind,  seems  to  require  the  most  unquestioning  faith." 

Rita  remained  silent,  plunged  evidently  in  deep  thought.  Then  suddenly 
she  exclaimed:  "Surely,  I  am  not  so  unique  in  my  position!  Do  you  not  re- 
member the  words  of  the  Scriptures:  'I  believe!  Oh,  Lord!  help  my  unbelief!' 
From  my  childhood,  those  words  have  been  in  my  heart  or  on  my  lips,  and  i 
found  consolation  in  the  fact  that  there  was  a  doubter  among  the  Apostles,  a 
fact  which  did  not  prevent  that  same  doubting  Thomas  from  sealing,  with  his 
blood,  the  faith  that  his  Lord  had  commanded  him  to  preach  to  all  nations." 

"But,  my  dear,  that  is  a  species  of  faith,  call  it  what  you  will.  But  yon 
spoke  of  reason  as  leading  you  against  your  own  convictions.  Pray,  by  what 
arguments  did  you  convince  yourself  against  yourself?" 

"By  main  force,"  jokingly  replied  Rita.     "Seriously,  it  is  a  little  difficult 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  69 

to  make  you  travel  the  road  I  traveled.  I  needs  must  lay  bare  thoughts  which 
are  both  materialistic  and  egotistical.  I  feel  s,ure  that,  however,  they  may  at 
first  shock  you,  you  will  bear  in  mind  the  final  outcome  of  the  struggle  and 
undertsand  how  very  necessary  that  very  egotism  was  to  bringing  myself  to 
accept  not  only  the  teachings  of  that  Church  that  admits  no  half-hearted  ac- 
ceptance of  her  dictum,  but  in  saving  me  from  rejecting  all  revealed  religion 
and  becoming  simply  a  deist." 

"'Why  do  you  not  say  an  atheist?" 

"Because,  to  me,  every  result  presupposes  a  cause,  and  leaves  nothing  to 
chance.  The  contemplation  of  the  countless  worlds  launched  into  space  and 
kept  there  in  such  nice  balance  that 

'Should  one  rebellious  atom  stray 
Nature  herself  would  hasten  to  decay,' 

proves  to  me  that  this  is  not  the  work  of  accident  but,  rather,  the  magnificent 
manifestation  of  a  divine  creative  power,  before  which  I  feel  my  nothingness 
and  bow  in  reverential  awe." 

"There  can  be  little  egotism  in  a  spirit  that  acknowledges  a  Supreme 
Being  -writh  such  deep  reverence,  yet  you  claimed  that  egotism  was  the  founda- 
tion of  your  self-imposed  faith." 

Eita  smiled  softly.  "Well,  perhaps  egotism  is  too  strong  a  term  to  apply 
to  self -contemplation  in  the  sense  of  realizing  Sir  Humphrey  Davey's  exclama- 
tion of  wonderment  at  his  creation,  «We  are  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made!' 
as  applied  to  myself.  This  heart,  with  its  complex  circulation  of  the  blood,  began 
its  unceasing  action  before  I  was  born,  and  continued,  and  will  continue  Ita 
ceaseless  throb,  until  life  ceases,  without  help  or  volition  of  mine.  My  lungs 
sprang  into  action  at  my  birth  without  my  knowledge  or  consent.  My  brain, 
with  its  triune  powers  of  free  will,  memory  and  understanding,  clear  reflex 
of  the  great  mystery  of  the  Trinity,  unfolding  and  expanding  until  it  reached 
its  fruition  at  maturity,  still  searching  out  and  craving  further  knowledge  and 
power,  all,  all,  prove  to  me  my  own  nothingness  and  dependence  on  that 
supreme  power  that  put  me  here." 


70  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

"But,  my  dear  Rita,  that  is  not  egotism,  nor  lack  of  faith.  You  spoke  ol 
believing  only  what  you  see  and  hear.  Surely  you  are  not  of  those  who  doubt 
their  own  existence?" 

♦'Nay,  nay;  I  am  not  mad!  I  am  too  impulsive,  too  full  of  vitality  ana 
energy  for  such  folly,  and  having  said  what  I  have,  I  suppose  there  is  nothing 
left  for  me  to  do  but  to  tell  the  story  of  my  struggle  against  myself.  I  was 
scarcely  fifteen,  a  pupil  in  a  convent,  therefore,  surrounded  by  the  beautiful 
personification  of  faith,  hope  and  charity,  as  lived  and  practiced  by  the  sisters 
of  the  community,  when  I  was  suddenly  assailed  by  my  doubts.  I  need  not 
tell  you  that  works  on  infidelity  had  never  met  my  eyes,  therefore,  I  am  com- 
pelled to  admit  that  egotism  and  vain  pride  were  the  foundation  of  my  distrust 
and  disbeliefs  in  the  teachings  of  the  Church  in  which  I  was  born,  not  as  to 
her  doctrines,  but  as  to  the  one  question  which  never  ceased  to  pursue  me, 
viz:  Why  did  a  just,  loving,  benevolent.  Omnipotent  and  Omniscient  God  create 
angels  and  men,  whom  He  knew  would  be  tempted  by  the  pitfalls  that,  I  had 
almost  said,  he  had  prepared  for  them?  I  have  since  read  Payne,  Voltaire, 
Eousseau,  but  their  arguments  and  false  reasonings  left  my  soul  unharmed,  for 
I  applied  to  them  the  same  reasoning  that  had  saved  me  from  myself." 

Claire  looked  serious.  "Your  words  have  certainly  startled  me.  And  yet 
you  say  you  reasoned  yourself  into  faith.    I  cannot  see  how." 

"I  feared  as  much,  and,  therefore,  hesitated  to  lay  bare  my  soul  to  you. 
Do  not  let  me  feel  that  what  I  have  said  can  in  any  way  affect  your  belief  in 
the  Book  of  Genesis. 

"At  the  present  moment,  I  can  hardly  analyse  my  own  feelin'gs.  Y''ou  have 
led  me  into  the  labyrinth  to  which  you  profess  to  have  the  clew.  I  am  willing 
to  follow  where  you  may  lead — only  show  me  the  way." 

"A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing,"  quoted  Rita  abruptly.  "At  the 
time  of  which  I  speak,  I  was  just  spreading  my  wings  in  the  realms  of  thought 
and  cognate  science,  and  was  puffed  up  with  my  little  knowledge.  I  have  since 
then  quaffed  largely  of  the  Pierian  Spring,  and  my  erudition  and  attainments 
seem  to  me  so  near  nothing  to  what  I  don't  know,  that  I  am  overwhelmed  at 
my  own  ignorance." 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  71 

"Blessed  are  the  meek  and  humble  of  Heart,  for  they  shall  be  exalted," 
quoted  Claire. 

Rita  laughed.  "That  must  be  a  ninth  Beautitude  of  which  I  never  heard, 
I  fear  you  have  gotten  your  'Sermon  on  the  Mount'  a  little  mixed.  However,  I 
accept  your  version  as  it  really  contains  the  spirit,  if  not  the  words,  of  those 
blessed  promises,  and  reply  that  if  'exalted'  means  personal  self-satisfaction 
or  self-approval,  then  that  promise  has  certainly  failed,  but  if  it  means  the 
exaltation  which  must  come  to  every  earnest  searcher  after  truth,  who  reaches 
the  longed  for  goal,  then  it  is  most  gloriously  fulfilled.  As  I  intimated,  my 
first  efforts  at  introspection  was  in  literally  following  the  command,  'Man  know 
thyself!'  physically,  mentally,  and  spiritually,  and  the  deeper  I  sought  to 
analyse  my  being,  the  deeper  my  wonder  grew,  until  I  was  lost  in  the  contempla^ 
tion  of  the  mystery  of  existence,  to  which  the  only  solution  was  God,  the 
creative  and  sustaining  power.  Going  beyond  myself,  I  plunged  into  the  study 
of  the  universe,  with  its  myriads  of  animate  and  inanimate  objects,  and  every- 
where I  was  confronted  and  baffled  by  the  fact  that  the  apparently  most  simple 
workings  of  Nature  were,  in  their  finality,  as  unexplainable,  to  the  wisest 
scientist,  as  problems  of  a  Euclid  to  the  veriest  babe.  I  saw  that  planting  a 
grain  of  corn,  not  oats  nor  rice,  nor  barley,  sprang  from  its  kernel;  that  kernel 
that,  torn  open,  presented  to  my  senses  nothing  but  a  white  powder  analogous 
to  every  other  form  or  kind,  yet  held,  hidden  from  my  feeble  ken,  the  divine 
spark  that  kept  it  true  to  its  kind  and  species. 

"I  have  gone  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  into  the  workshops  of  Nature, 
and  beheld  deposits  of  sparkling  gems  and  precious  metals,  seen  mines  of  salt 
mined  like  coal,  found  sulphur  in  juxtaposition  to  wells  of  oil,  have  followed 
veins  of  gold  and  silver  paralled  by  veins  of  baser  metals  and  asked  in  vain 
why  that  strata  bore  coal  and  the  other  iron.  I  have  witnessed,  with  fear  and 
trembling,  the  terrific  effect  of  that  subtle  fluid  that  Franklin  directed  with  a 
toy  and  Morse  harnessed  as  man's  messenger  to  distant  lands,  and  which, 
scientists  tell  us,  will  one  day  be  man's  slave  and  do  his  every  bidding.  Like 
fire,  it  is  a  good  slave,  but  a  harsh  master.  We  have  seen,  heard  and  felt  it, 
nay  measured  it,  yet  no  man  has  weighed  it,  nor  none  can  say  what  this  thing 


72  RIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

we  call  electricity  really  is.  I  give  myself  as  a  fairly  intelligent  woman — you 
see,  my  dear,  that  egotism  is  at  the  bottom  of  my  faith,  and  yet  I  could  not 
give  a  real  and  satisfactory  answer  to  all  these  questions,  and  still  my  finite  mind 
had  dared  to  question  the  Infinite!  Because  I  could  not  fathom  the  whys  and 
wherefores  of  creation,  I  had  rejected  all  the  attributes  that  must  necessarily 
belong  to  a  Godhead,  love,  mercy,  justice,  and  omnipotence.  I,  as  I  told  you, 
never  once  questioned  the  Creator,  and  yet  my  puny  intelligence  sought  to 
pierce  his  wisdom  and  his  plans.  My  own  folly  recoiled  on  myself,  and  my 
reason  dominated  my  doubts.  The  acceptance  of  revealed  religion  was  easy 
after  the  stumbling  block,  over  which  I  came  so  near  falling,  had  been  removed. 
At  first,  the  combat  was  oft  renewed,  but  I  daily  repeated  the  prayer  already 
alluded  to:  *I  believe,  or  Lord  help  my  unbelief.'  My  prayer  has  been 
answered.  Less  and  less  am  I  assailed  by  my  terrible  temptation  and  my  soul 
has  found  peace." 

Both  remained  silent.  As  Rita  ceased  speaking,  Claire  rose,  stooped  and 
kissed  her  companion  softly  and  whispered:  "I  thank  you,  dear.  I  think  I 
have  learned  the  meaning  of  your  words.    Have  no  fear." 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTER  XL  "        ' 

At  mid-day,  some  days  after,  Captain  Hayward  let  himself  and  his  com- 
panion, who,  from  appearances,  might  be  his  twin  brother,  into  the  hall  just  as 
he  had  done  on  Rita's  first  arrival.  Walking  rapidly  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
he  gave  a  call  for  Rita,  who,  hearing  her  husband's  footsteps  at  that  unusual 
time  of  day,  was  already  hastily  descending. 

"Come,  my  dear,  here  is  a  young  man  who  wishes  to  see  you,"  and  as  he 
spoke,  the  stranger  rose  and  faced  her  laughingly. 

"O,  Victor!  Victor!  my  dear  brother!"  and  in  a  moment  she  felt  his  arms 
about  her,  and  was  sobbing  out  her  joy  on  his  breast. 

"By  what  chance,"  she  asked  at  last,  "is  a  Southern  soldier  here  in  the  very 
cradle  of  Yankeedom?  What  good  luck  brought  you  here?  How  is  Mamma f 
How  long  will  you  be  here,  Victor!" 

As  question  followed  question  without  pause  for  an  answer,  Victor  and 
James  smiled;  Victor,  that  he  seemed  to  have  found  Rita  as  he  had  left  her, 
eager,  impulsive,  warm-hearted  as  ever;  James,  that  Rita  seemed  to  have  for- 
gotten all  he  knew  she  remembered  so  well. 

* '  One  thing  at  a  time,  little  sister.  I  am  here  because  I  was  taken  prisoner 
at  Seven  Pines.  You  know  I  was  promoted  and  transferred  to  the  captaincy  of 
Company  B,  in  front  of  Richmond,  where  Mamma  followed  me,  and  where  she 
is  now,  in  ignorance  of  my  fate.  I  was  sent  to  Fort  Delaware,  with  many  another 
poor  devil,  where  we  starved  in  the  midst  of  plenty." 

"Starved!"  exclaimed  Rita  and  Captain  Hayward  simultaneonsly. 

"Yeis,  starved,"  reiterated  Victor.  "You  certainly  have  heard  of  the 
retaliatory  measures  adopted  on  account  of  the  scant  rations  given  Federal 
prisoners  in  our  Southern  military  jails?  Many  a  Southern  soldier  has  wished, 
as  he  ate  his  ration  of  parched  corn,  that  he  could  feast  on  the  rations,  scant  as 
they  are,  of  which  our  enemies  complain  so  bitterly;  but,  of  course,  we  are  not 


74  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

going  to  admit  tiiat,  or  the  North  might  think  we  were  pretty  well  whipped  by 
starvation.  But,  to  go  on.  One  day  an  officer  was  sent  to  get  a  complete  roster 
of  all  officers  in  Fort  Delaware,  and,  it  became  rumored,  to  select  two  hunderd 
of  their  number  to  hold  as  hostages  for  the  good  treatment  of  Federal  prisoners 
at  Andersonville.  An  hout  after  his  advent  an  orderly  entered  'the  pen,'  and  in 
a  loud  voice  called  Captain  Victor  Levillier  to  report  immediately  at  head- 
quarters, and  in  the  midst  of  openly  expressed  fierce  disapproval  and  silent  looks 
of  pity  for  the  first  victim  of  the  new  order,  I  followed  my  guide. 

"I  was  soon  confronted  by  a  tall,  handsome  officer,  who,  coming  forward, 
took  my  hand  warmly  and  said:  *I  feel  sure  I  make  no  mistake  in  thinking 
Captain  Victor  Levillier,  Company  B,  Washington  Artillery,  New  Orleans,  is 
son  and  brother  to  the  two  women  to  whom  I  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude,  I  shall 
deem  myself  fortunate  in  paying,  in  part,  by  doing  all  I  can  for  his  comfort.' 

"I  had  heard  enough  from  you.  Mamma,  and  Father  Turgis  to  guess  that 
this  was  Major  Kendrick,  and  I  said  so.  Well,  the  upshot  was,  that  my  name 
did  not  go  down  on  the  black  list,  with  which  the  Major  had  nothing  to  do, 
and  in  a  few  days  I  was  liberated  on  parole,  given  proper  clothing,  and  sent  here 
to  remain  until  exchanged,  on  the  sole  condition  that  I  report  twice  a  week  to 
the  military  authorities  here.  Major  Kendrick  also  promised  to  send  a  letter 
through  with  the  first  flag  of  truce,  acquainting  my  mother  of  the  facts." 

Just  at  this  point  Mai  Tel's  ecstatic  exclamations  put  an  end  to  the  con- 
versation, as  she  threw  her  arms  around  Victor  and  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks. 

"Well!  'pon  honor!  is  that  the  way  you  let  your  niggers  embrace  youf" 
asked  Captain  Hayward  in  astonishment. 

Mam  Tel  turned  quickly.  * '  No,  sir,  not  all  niggers,  but  his  own  old  mammy 
what  held  him  in  her  arms  in  sickness  and  in  health  from  the  day  he  was  bom, 
and  who  loves  him,  and  will  serve  him  as  her  master,  free  or  no  free,  as  long  as 
we  both  live,  just  as  I  does  Mamselle  Rita.  Mars  Victor  ain't  af eared  the  color 
will  rub  off;  and  sure  God  is  good  to  me  when  He  sent  my  own  boy  to  dis  cold 
land,  where  Mo  Piti  and  me  is  pining  for  the  sunshine  of  our  own  country." 

"  'Pon  honor,  this  is  rich!  "  and  Captain  Hayward  laughed  uproariously. 

"Beg  pardon,"  he  added,  as  he  caught  the  look  of  annoyance  both  Rita  and 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  75 

Victor  sought  to  conceal.  "Had  you  listened  all  your  life  to  the  tales  of  horror 
told  by  runaway  slaves,  and  been  taught,  as  I  was,  that,  freeing  slaves,  even  by 
the  underground  route,  as  I  did,  as  a  mere  pastime,  was  the  holiest  mission  a 
man  could  select  as  his  life  work,  then,  right  in  Boston,  to  meet  such  a  specimen 
of  the  down-trodden  slave  as  Mam  Tel,  is  surely  amusing  enough  for  any  one, 
-when,  added  to  that,  I  recall  my  first  introduction  to  the  real  negro,  on  the  road 
leading  out  of  M'acon. 

"I  was  galloping  out  of  the  city  on  important  business,  when  I  was  suddenly 
confronted,  and  my  way  almost  barred,  by  the  most  motley  crowd  of  contrabands 
of  war  it  had,  until  that  time,  been  my  fortune  to  see.  There  they  were,  men, 
women  and  children,  in  a  state  of  wild  excitement,  talking,  laughing,  singing 
camp  meeting  songs  in  which  new  words  often  took  the  place  of  the  old.  Some, 
staggering  under  the  weight  of  household  effects  on  their  heads,  or  of  some 
piccaninny,  who  refused  to  keep  up  with  the  procession,  carried  on  shoulder  or 
hip,  but  all  chattering  away  like  a  lot  of  monkeys.  If  Darwin  ever  saw  that 
style  of  darky,  I  don't  blame  him  for  his  peculiar  theories.  I  stopped  long 
enough  to  allow  the  thick  of  the  crew  to  pass,  and  caught  some  of  the  disjointed 
phrases,  and  saw  bundles  dropped  and  piccaninnies  abandoned  in  fence  corners. 
There  seemed  to  be  only  one  common  aim,  to  follow  the  men  who  marched  along 
unencumbered,  and  to  get  to  'Mars  Linkum,'  whom  they  seemed  to  expect  at 
the  turning  of  the  lane.  Speech  seemed  to  be  the  only  advantage  that  rabble 
had  over  the  monkey,  and  I  don 't  believe  the  soldiers  appreciated  that  advantage, 
as  the  wild  babble  went  on  in  an  endless  stream. 

"  'Here,  you,  Maria,  where  you  be?'  'Say,  Mammie,  how  much  f udder  we's 
bleeged  to  go  ? '  "  Pomp,  don '  you  drap  dem  der  t  'ings  you  is  a-packing. '  *  Here, 
you,  Pete  and  Betsy,  you  sot  right  down  thar  till  I  don'  come  back.'  'Bres  the 
Lord  dat  I  done  seed  dis  day  of  salvation!'  *I'se  free!  all  on  'count  of  Mars 
Linkum  and  dese  here  good  folks! '  I  felt  flattered  to  be  included  in  the  wave 
of  the  hand  that  took  in  every  man  wearing  a  uniform.  'Mars  Linkum,  he 
feeds  the  sheep  and  he  feeds  the  lams,  and  we'll  all  live  on  the  fat  on  the  Ian'! 
^We's  all  a-gadering  at  the  ribber,  at  the  ribber  of  the  free!'  and  so  on  ad 


76  EIGHT  OE  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 

infinitum,  each  according  to  her  mood,  a  foot,  on  mules,  in  carts  so  overloaded 
the  poor  animals  fairly  staggered  under  the  burden,  or  lay  down  in  the  road 
to  be  urged  and  beaten  as  only  a  darky  can  beat  a  helpless  animal,  but  all  bent 
en  a  freedom  the  very  meaning  of  which  was  lost  on  them,  yet  as  happy  and  irre- 
sponsible as  birds  just  let  out  of  the  cage.  I  can 't  think  how  Mam  Tel,  with  her 
airs  and  graces,  her  dignity  and  high  notions,  can  be  of  the  same  race." 

"No  more  I  ain't.  Mars  Hayward.  A  horse  is  a  horse,  but  a  spavined  old 
plough  horse  and  a  race  horse  ain't  the  same,  and  never  will  be.  I  was  bom 
with  a  dark  skin,  but  I  was  taught  right  from  wrong,  and  I's  tried  to  live  np 
to  my  teachings.  Them  cornfield  contrabands  don't  know  no  better,  and  they 
thinks  what's  wrong  for  white  folks  is  all  right  for  them,  and  freedom  means 
to  be  as  lazy  and  trifling  as  they  pleases,  to  lie  and  steal,  and  do  all  kinds  of 
deviltry,  gitting  caught  the  only  argufying  that  proves  they's  done  wrong,  and 
the  freer  they's  going  to  be  the  worser  they'll  grow,  'cause  jist  now  they's  still 
got  the  fear  on  'em  that  perhaps  Mars  Linkum  ain  't  as  big  a  man  as  some  people 
think,  and  that  whips  and  overseers  ain't  all  swept  away.  I  tells  you,  half  the 
nigggers  don't  know  right  from  wrong,  and  the  other  half  don't  care;  so  it  looks 
to  me  mighty  black  for  my  people  if  they  don't  win  dis  fight." 

"Mam  Tel  is  right,"  said  Victor.  "This  has  become,  for  the  South,  more 
than  a  question  of  the  rights  of  secession  or  the  emancipation  of  her  slaves,  but 
a  struggle  for  the  very  supremacy  of  the  white  race  will  be  forced  upon  her,  if 
she  should  be  finally  overwhelmed  by  being  outnumbered  on  every  battlefield. 
The  South  is  robbing  the  cradle  and  the  grave  to  take  the  places  of  those  who 
fall  by  shot,  shell  and  disease,  while  the  North  is  going  far  afield  for  her  count- 
less recruits  to  throw  against  our  exhausted  battalions.  The  struggle  is  too  nn- 
equal,  and  I  fear  the  people  of  the  South  will  have  to  face  greater  evils  than 
even  death  in  battle  and  in  hospitals." 

"If  that  time  ever  comes,  your  people  will  have  to  look,  like  your  negroes, 
to  'Mars  Linkum'  for  salvation.  Old  Abe  is  a  just  man,  and  will  do  what  la 
right." 

"I  don't  know  but  you  are  right.  I  personally  have  good  cause  to  think 
well  of  him,  for  I  understand  my  release  was  signed  by  Abraham  Lincoln,  Presi- 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  77 

dent  of  the  United  States  of  America.  But,  after  all,  vrhj  anticipate  evil,  with 
Lee,  Jackson,  Beauregard,  still  undauntedly  facing  the  foe,  with  the  grandest, 
bravest  army  at  their  back?  We  are  still  unconquered,  and  will  give  a  good 
account  of  ourselves  I" 

"Take  a  friend's  or  a  fool's  advice,  which  ever  pleases  you,  but  keep  those 
sentiments,  while  you  are  here,  for  this  household,  with  its  pro-Southern  sym- 
pathies, or  you  might  find  that  one  rebel  isn't  a  match  for  a  mob,  and  even  here 
you  have  to  reckon  with  the  mater  and  Claire,  who,  of  course,  swear  by  the  stars 
and  stripes.    By  the  way,  Rita,  have  you  sent  word  to  Mother  and  Claire?" 

"I  was  so  selfishly  engrossed  in  my  happiness  I  failed  in  my  duty  to  them. 
Mam  Tel,  go  and  tell  Mrs.  Hayward  and  Claire.  Tell  them  I  ask  a  welcome  for 
Victor,  the  best  of  brothers." 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

"Will  you  permit  me  to  accompany  you?"  said  Claire  timidly,  as  Rita  and 
Victor  were  leaving  for  church. 

"Why,  of  course,  dear,  if  you  so  desire.  Have  you  consulted  Auntie,  and 
Las  she  given  her  consent?" 

"Certainly;  but  do  not  misinterpret  my  motives.  I  heard  yesterday  that  the 
choir,  an  excellent  one  at  all  times,  is  to  be  strengthened  by  one  of  the  finest 
voices  heard  at  the  symphony  concerts.  I  have  often  longed  to  hear  the  choir 
of  the  Cathedral,  but  never  felt  equal  to  going  there  alone;  but  with  you  two 
to  keep  me  in  countenance,  I  feel  as  if  I  am  to  enjoy  a  real  musical  treat." 

Rita  smiled  softly.  "God  moves  in  mysterious  ways,  Claire  dear,  and  we 
can  only  hope  that  we  all  may  be  guided  by  what  is  best  for  us." 

Claire  looked  puzzled  at  Rita's  enigmatical  reply,  then  said  simply:  "I 
think  I  understand,  but  be  not  led  by  false  hopes.  My  intentions  are  purely  to 
enjoy  the  music,  and  no  ulterior  object  lurks  in  either  heart  or  brain." 

Rita  remained  silent. 

As  the  three  entered  the  church,  the  priest  had  already  intoned  the 
Asperges.  During  the  mass,  Claire  sat  entranced  as  the  services  progressed  and 
the  magnificent  voices  rose  in  paeans  of  praise  in  the  Gloria,  confessed  the  faith 
in  the  Credo,  swelled  out  in  the  sweet  and  grand  diapasons  of  Gounod's  Ave 
Maria,  at  the  Offertory,  until,  at  the  end  of  the  Agnus  Dei,  a  repentant  world 
sobbed  out  its  supplication  for  forgiveness.  As  the  closing  words  of  the  Gospel 
of  St.  John  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  celebrant,  and  the  choir  sang  the  recessional, 
Claire  followed  her  companions  in  a  state  of  religious  exaltation  she  had  never 
before  experienced. 

"Well?"  asked  Rita,  misunderstanding  Claire's  silence,  "were  you  disap- 
pointed in  the  singing  f" 

"Disappointed!    Oh,  Rita,  it  was  heavenly!    I  could  fully  share  the  longing 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  79 

of  the  Peri  at  the  gates  of  Paradise.  I  only  wished  I  could  have  understood 
the  words  as  well  as  I  have  been  thrilled  by  the  music ! ' ' 

"Why,  dear,  you  could  have  followed  the  words  in  the  prayer  book  Victor 
gave  you.  The  words  of  the  mass  are  translated  into  English,  and  we  join  in 
the  same  prayers  said  by  the  priest  and  sung  by  the  choir." 

"Why,  then,  do  you  not  say  the  mass  in  English?" 

"Because,  the  Church  is  universal,  viz:  her  children  speak  all  the  tongues 
of  the  earth,  bo  she  adopted  the  universal  Latin  in  order  that,  from  Greenland's 
icy  mountains  to  the  uttermost  stretches  of  the  antarctic  regions,  her  priests 
might  communicate  with  each  other,  and  her  people  follow  the  mass,  understand- 
ing its  prayers  and  its  purpose." 

"That  seems  reasonable;  but  forgive  me,  what  does  not  appeal  to  me  are 
the  useless  ceremonies  and  genuflexions,  the  glaring  ornaments  and  vestments." 

"Those  are  meaningless  to  you  because  you  fail  to  grasp  their  deep  signifi- 
cance. Each  and  every  action,  color  and  decoration,  in  some  way  recalls  the 
passion  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  of  which  the  mass,  as  a  whole,  is  the  unbloody 
reproduction  of  the  bloody  sacrifice  of  Calvary.  Our  attention,  on  the  entrance 
of  the  priest,  is  immediately  attracted  to  the  color  of  his  vestments,  that  in- 
variably conform  to  the  feast  that  is  that  day  celebrated — gold  and  white 
indicating  a  feast  of  joy,  such  as  those  of  Christmas  and  Easter;  purple,  a  feast 
of  isorrow  and  repentance,  as  during  Lent,  Advent,  Good  Friday;  and  black  for 
the  dead.  The  cross  on  the  back  of  the  chasuble  immediately  recalls  the 
ignominious  gibbet  on  which  the  Son  of  Man  expired.  As  the  priest  kneels  at 
the  foot  of  the  altar,  we  can  again  behold  the  agoijy  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane. 
The  passing  of  the  priest  from  one  side  of  the  altar,  back  and  forth,  iu  in 
imitation  of  His  buffetings  between  Caiphas  and  Annas,  Herod  and  Pilate,  while 
at  the  Lavabo  he  repeats  the  action  of  Pilate,  who  washed  his  hands  of  the 
innocent  blood  that  was  to  be  shed.  As  the  Sacred  Host  is  held  high,  we  again 
behold  Jesus  lifted  up  to  die  on  the  cross.  And  so  the  mass  goes  on  recalling 
every  event  of  the  sacred  drama  enacted  on  Oalvary.  Music  may  enhance  the 
beauty  of  the  Holy  Sacrifice,  but  the  low  mass,  or  mass  without  organ  or  ehoir, 
loses  nothing  of  its  solemnity  by  the  absence  of  even  the  most  elevating  music, 


80  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

the  awed  attention  and  silence  of  the  worshippers  being,  to  some,  more  impressive 
and  less  distracting." 

"Oh,  I  know  so  little,  I  can  hardly  dare  form  an  opinion,  but  it  does  seem 
to  me  that  the  deep  tones  of  the  organ  and  the  blended  male  and  female  voices 
must  be  aB  the  complement  of  the  lights,  the  brilliant  colors  of  the  decorations, 
and  the  dress  of  the  priest.  To  me,  if  I  dare  to  express  it,  the  ceremony  I  wit- 
nessed to-day  mnst  be,  without  music,  like  Hamlet  with  the  dark  prince  left 
out.    What  do  you  think,  Captain  Levillier?" 

Vietor  had  taken  no  part  in  the  conversation  thus  far,  but  when  thus 
appealed  to,  he  looked  quietly  at  Claire,  and  said: 

"Your  comparison  is  not  apposite,  for,  do  not  forget  that  our  Lord  and 
King  is  ever  present  on  the  altar.  I  admit  that  the  great  church,  with  its  beau- 
tiful altar  and  gleaming  lights,  the  magnificent  music,  and  last,  though  not  least, 
the  correct  chant  of  the  celebrant,  are  all  calculated  to  appeal  to  our  emotional 
nature;  but,"  he  added,  half  mischievously,  "all  music  is  not  that  of  the  Boston 
Cathedral,  and  sometimes  engenders  distractions,  in  the  musical,  not  at  all  akin 
to  the  pleasurable  or  devotional  emotions  you  experienced  this  morning." 

"The  congregational  singing  is  open,  I  fear,  to  the  same  objections,  and  yet 
I  plead  guilty  to  having  what  you  Frenchmen  call  a  '  penchant '  for  it.  However, 
I  suppose  that  is  a  matter  of  taste  about  which  there  can  be  no  argument.  One 
thing,  however,  did  surprise  me  greatly.  The  text  of  your  sermon,  the  reading 
aloud  of  the  Gospel  and  Epistle  in  English,  was  something  very  unexpected  to 
me." 

**What  is  there  astonishing  about  that?"  asked  Rita,  bewildered. 

**A8  you  Catholics  are  not  allowed  to  read  the  Bible,  I  did  not  believe  you 
would  be  allowed  to  listen  to  it." 

Bita  and  Victor  laughed. 

**Why,  Claire,  I  did  not  suppose  you  could  believe  such  an  absurdity  I "  cried 
Rita,  reproachfully. 

"We  Catholics,"  quickly  spoke  Victor,  "do  not  believe  in  unauthorized  or 
garbled  copies  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  nor  in  personal  interpretation  of  its  texts, 
for  you  mnst  surely  appreciate   that,   by  selecting  and   mutilating   quotations 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  81 

from  it,  one  can  prove  almost  anything,  but  there  is  scarcely  a  Catholic  family 
who  does  not  cherish,  as  its  most  sacred  possession,  the  New  Testament;  and 
many  of  them  posess  the  Douay  Bible,  the  authorized  version  of  the  old  as  well 
as  the  new.  One  could  scarcely  put  in  the  hands  of  young  persons  or  children  a 
full  code,  with  illustrating  examples  of  all  the  crimes  punishable  by  our  present 
criminal  laws,  and  we  prefer  to  give  our  young  people,  condensed,  or,  rather,  if 
I  may  use  the  word,  expurgated  histories  of  the  Bible.  I  remember  that  my  first 
efforts  at  Latin  included  an  Epitome  of  Historiae  Sacre,  and,  from  our  earleist 
childhood,  Eita  and  I  were  rewarded  by  being  allowed  to  look  at  an  illustrated 
story  of  the  Bible,  beginning  at  Genesis,  and  ending  with  the  Ascension  and 
the  coming  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  I  must  confess  we  were  as  pleased  at  the 
explanations  and  reading  of  the  text  as  we  would  have  been  at  some  fairy  tale. 
By  the  way,  our  father  never  allowed  us  to  hear  fairy  tales;  he  contended  that, 
as  a  rule,  they  gave  false,  or,  at  best,  depressing  ideas  of  life,  where  often  cun- 
ning, theft,  falsehood  or  cruelty  earned  the  reward  virtue  should  have  received. ' ' 

"Well,  after  all,  is  not  that  often  the  case  in  actual  life?"  timidly  asked 
Claire. 

"Perhaps;  but  he  contended  that  it  was  a  sorry  picture  to  hold  up  to  young, 
inexperienced  minds,  before  they  could  learn  that,  whatever  the  results,  right 
must  be  done,  because  it  was  right,  regardless  of  consequences  or  reward." 

"And  what  did  he  substitute  for  the  beloved  fairy  tales  of  ordinary  child- 
hood?" 

"Anecdotes  and  interesting  facts  of  history,  such  as  had,  as  far  as  possible, 
no  bearing  on  the  triumph  of  wrong  over  right,  but  illustrated  perseverance  in 
the  right,  high  resolves  and  heroism,  even  unto  death," 

"What  a  droll  theory;  yet,  after  all,  not  Such  a  bad  one,"  said  Claire, 
thoughtfully.    "Did  he  carry  it  out  on  you  and  Eita?" 

Eita  laughed  joyously.  "Yes,  indeed;  and,  in  the  opinion  of  our  friends,  made 
precious  little  prigs  of  us.  Victor,  do  you  remember  our  visit  to  Madame  St. 
Beuve?  Having  put  us  through  our  paces,  I  heard  Mademoiselle  Eulalie  remark 
in  the  most  dignified  way,  'Bah!  what  queer  babies!  I  declare,  there  are  no 
more  children!    Just  imagine  children  who  don't  know  "Blue  Beard"  and  "Hop 


82  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

o'  My  Thumb"  and  "Puss  in  Boots,"  yet  can  recite  La  Fontaine's  fables  and 
explain  their  meaning.  I  expect,  by  next  year,  they  will  be  able  to  quote  Homer 
and  Virgil,  and  explain  the  planetary  system!'  " 

"That  was  certainly  a  very  unkind  remarki  But,  after  all,  see  how  far  we 
have  wandered  from  our  subject.  Why  should  you  object  to  personal  interpreta- 
tion of  the  Scriptures?" 

"Because,  my  dear  Claire,  the  Church  was  founded  before  the  Gospels  or 
Epistles  were  written,  and  it  was  to  that  Church  that  the  promise  was  given 
that  the  gates  of  hell  should  not  prevail  against  it." 

"Oh,  what  an  extraordinary  statement!"  exclaimed  Claire. 

"And  yet  a  true  one,"  rejoined  Rita.  "The  Gospels  are  a  recital  of  the  life, 
actions,  teachings,  and  death  of  the  Saviour.  The  facta  are  the  same;  they 
differ  only  in  the  minutae  of  the  events,  prominence  being  given  to  that  which 
appealed  most  strongly  to  the  writer,  and  must  necessarily  have  occurred  before 
being  written.  The  Epistles  were  written  in  carrying  out  the  injunctions  of 
their  Master,  *Go,  thou  and,  teach  all  nations.'  That  certainly  cannot  mean  that 
each  was  to  teach  a  different  doctrine,  but  only  the  one  He  had  taught  them. 
Can  you  not  see  the  infinite  divisions  which  this  indivdual  interpretation  means! 
Take  the  Church  of  England.  She  calls  herself  the  Protestant  Epscopal  Church, 
yet  retains  the  word  of  Catholic  as  if  to  show  her  origin,  yet  she  is  divided  into 
High  and  Low  Church.  Nor  did  the  division  stop  there.  No  sooner  was  this 
church  established  than  schisms  rent  it  to  its  very  centre,  and  you  find  Dissenters, 
Puritans,  Quakers,  Anabaptists,  spring  into  being,  each  in  its  turn  to  be  sub- 
divided into  numerous  branches  and  offshoots,  to  say  nothing  of  the  countless 
sects  and  ramifications  that  spring  up  at  the  dictum  of  each  minister  dissatisfied 
with  his  surroundings  or  longing  for  notorety,  until  we  come  to  those  who,  like 
yourself,     reject  the  Trinity,  consequently  the  divinity  of  Christ." 

Claire  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  ground,  but  did  not  reply.  The  silence  was 
Etill  unbroken  when  the  two  entered  the  house.  Rita  encircled  the  girl'i  waist 
lovingly,  and  whispered  softly,  "You  are  not  offended,  I  hope,  Claire!" 

"No,  Mot  offended;  only  bewildered." 


EIGHT  OR  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTEE   XIII. 

After  Lee's  surrender,  on  Victor's  return  from  the  scene  of  war  and  desola- 
tion that  everywhere  marked  the  path  of  both  armies,  he  had  visited  Esperance, 
fully,  as  he  thought,  prepared  for  every  change  made  by  ruin  and  devastation, 
and  Ms  worst  fears  had  been  only  too  vividly  realized, 

Jean  Maux,  aided  by  the  love  the  hands  felt  for  the  young  master,  had 
held  them  together  much  longer  than  had  most  of  the  owners  of  adjoining 
plantations,  but  when  at  last  the  gunboats  began  their  ascent  of  the  Teche, 
shelling  either  side  with  equal  impartiality  for  fear  of  hidden  foe,  the  usual 
results  had  followed:  fields  left  to  grow  up  in  weeds,  the  magnificent  sugar 
houses  a  heap  of  scrap  iron,  made  so  by  shot,  shell,  and  fire,  fences  destroyed 
while  the  quarters  showed  the  ravages,  less  of  time,  than  of  the  lazy  propensities 
of  a  race  feeling  for  the  first  time  the  sweets  of  freedom  without  appreciation 
of  its  responsibilities;  who,  young  and  old,  had  found  it  much  easier  to  have 
fires  without  the  labor  of  cutting  the  wood,  cords  of  which,  in  the  old  days,  had 
regularly  been  piled  for  the  use  of  the  quarters,  so  that  fences,  flooring,  doors, 
and  windows  had  been  chopped  by  those  who  remained  in  possession,  and  Jean 
Maux  had  been  powerless  to  stop  the  vandalism.  Indeed,  it  had  been  all  he  had  been 
able  to  accomplish  to  protect  the  main  or  manor  house,  by  moving  into  and 
claiming  it  and  its  contents  as  his  own  by  right  of  labor  done  without  compen- 
sation; a  right  there  was  none  willing  or  inclined  to  gainsay.  He  had  likewise 
rescued  a  few  head  of  cattle  and  horses  left  after  the  others  had  been 
requisitioned  by  the  army  or  stolen  by  the  ex-slaves  who  desired  to  put  a 
safe  distance  between  themselves  and  a  possible  return  to  their  former  status, 
a  haunting  dread,  of  which  lingered  for  months  in  the  ignorant  brains  of  the 
newly  enfranchised,  only  to  give  place  at  last  to  the  most  extravagant  hopes 
or  rather  convictions,  that  forty  acres  and  a  mule  was  the  least  that  Mars 
Linkum  was  going  to  bestow  on  each  and  every  one  of  them.     Oh!  those  sweet 


^4  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

yet  grotesque  first  days  of  freedom!  How  gladly  did  the  new  born  freeman 
follow  the  Ignis  Fatuus  of  hope  that  glowed  brighter  to  their  eyes  than  ever 
did  the  lamp  of  reality  to  saner  mortals!  What  if  they  were  cold  and  hungry 
and  sick  to-day,  to-morrow,  a  raid  on  some  white  man's  corn  field  or  chicken 
roost,  or  a  shot  at  some  adventuring  young  shoat,  would  soon  replenish  the 
larder — ^live  and  be  merry,  for  the  good  time  was  coming  when  the  earth  and  its 
plentitude  would  be  theirs!  What  if  occasionally  some  marauder  paid  the 
penalty  with  his  life!  Their  philosophy  evolved  consolation  from  the  fact 
that  some  people  got  shot  some  times  when  they  went  out  hunting  for  legitimate 
game,  and  then,  there  was  the  wake!  a  fruitful  source  of  fun  and  merry-making. 
And  anyhow  what  could  a  poor  negro  do  when  even  the  hog  he  killed  returned 
the  compliment,  as  was  amply  proved  and  attested  to  the  satisfaction  of  a 
coroner's  jury,  according  to  the  facts  and  evidence,  when  Jim  was  found  shot 
through  the  heart  and  a  dead  hog  alongside  of  him  with  the  pistol,  whose 
bullet  had  done  for  poor  Jim,  held  in  his  mouth.  Facts  and  figures  can't  lie, 
and  the  hog  had  been  caught,  if  not  in  the  act,  mighty  close  to  it,  so  what 
could  a  white  jury  do  but  return  a  verdict  of  a  "Clear  case  of  self-defense 
on  the  part  of  the  hog?" 

It  was  under  these  conditions  that  Victor  returned  to  Esperance.  Mrs. 
Levillier  and  Victor  had  agreed  to  give  up  their  city  home  as  too  expensive  to 
keep  up  under  the  new  burdens  war  and  reconstruction  had  imposed  upon  the 
South.  In  fact,  it  took  every  resource  and  Victor's  iron  will,  always  a  strong 
point  in  his  character,  to  resume  the  life  that  heretofore  had  been  so  pleasant 
to  him.  At  times,  he  felt  that  the  effort  was  too  great  and  results  too  meagre, 
but  his  mother's  love  for  the  old  place,  the  memories  of  his  childhood,  and  the 
hope  that  ultimately  order  might  be  evolved  from  chaos,  all  urged  him  to  con- 
tinue, and  now,  two  years  after  the  war,  Esperance  was  beginning  to  show 
the  effects  of  his  industry  and  forethought  in  accepting  and  acting  in  ac- 
cordance with  new  conditions. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Claire 's  health  began  to  show  the  effects  of  an 
early,  inclement  fall,  that  presaged  a  still  more  bitter  winter.  In  the  first 
chill  days   she  had  taken   a   severe   cold   that   clung  tenaciously   despite   every 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  PAITH.  85 

care.  Mrs.  Hayward  and  Eita  were  both  alarmed  as  the  erstwhile  rosy  cheeks 
lost  their  pretty  coloring  and  the  doctors  spoke  of  wintering  in  a  milder 
climate. 

Eita,  without  consulting  any  one,  wrote  to  her  mother  and  in  return  Claire 
received  a  note  urging  her  to  come  to  Esperanee,  and  offering  the  hospitalities 
of  the  place,  poor  as  they  were.  The  invitation  was  gladly  accepted,  and 
preparations  were  made,  as  rapidly  as  possible,  for  an  early  flight  to  the 
Sunny  South.  Claire's  departure  had  been  fixed  for  the  end  of  the  week  when 
a  letter  reached  Eita  that  altered  all  their  plans. 

Victor  wrote  that  Mrs.  Levillier's  health  had  perceptibly  broken  in  the 
last  few  months.  The  doctors  gave  no  special  name  to  her  ailment,  but,  since 
she  knew  of  Claire's  coming,  she  had  grown  much  more  nervous  and  debilitated, 
and  Victor  had  shrewdly  guessed  that  a  longing  to  see  Eita  had  probably  a  large 
share  in  her  mother 's  condition,  and  he  urged  her  to  accompany  Claire  sure  j 
that  Eita's  presence  would  go  far  to  restore  her  mother  to  her  normal  health, 
and  he  inclosed  a  check  to  defray  the  expenses. 

Captain  Hayward  had  brought  the  letter  to  Eita,  and  as  the  cheek  fell  from 
the  inclosure,  he  picked  it  up. 

"Well,  what  luck!  Just  what  I  need!  It's  not  often  fortune  favors  me 
but  all  the  more  do  I  appreciate  her  rare  visits." 

Eita  looked  up  quickly  from  her  letter  reading.  "Oh!  James,  it  is  certainly 
a  piece  of  luck.  Victor  sends  it  that  I  may  come  home  with  Claire.  Mamma 
is  not  at  all  well,  and  Victor  hopes  much  from  my  visit.  How  glad  I  will  be 
to  see  them  all  once  more!  not  to  mention  the  old  land  of  sunshine,  flowers  and 
balmy  breezes! " 

"Don't  get  there  too  fast,  Eita.  I  said  it  was  a  piece  of  good  luck  for 
me.  You'd  scarcely  consider  it  a  compliment  if  I  looked  upon  your  leaving 
me  as  a  piece  of  good  luck,  now,  would  you?" 

For  a  few  moments,  Eita  sat  frozen  by  this  proof  of  her  husband's  infamy; 
then  refusing  to  contemplate  such  baseness,  she  smiled  pleasantly. 

"Oh,  James!  I'm  too  happy  even  to  pretend  I  think  you're  in  earnest 
and  give  you  a  sharp  retort." 


86  EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 

"Never  was  more  in  earnest  in  my  lite!  I  need  this  money  and  shall  most 
certainly  keep  it." 

"But,  James,  it  is  not  yours." 

"Did  you  never  hear  the  law  of  marital  rights,  'what's  yours  is  mine,  and 
what's  mine  is  my  own?'  This  is  a  case  in  point,  and  I  am  too  good  a  lawyer 
not  to  remember  that  possession  is  nine  points  of  the  law,"  and  as  he  spoke, 
he  transferred  the  check  to  his  pocketbook. 

"You  are  lawyer  enough  to  know  that  the  money  is  not  even  mine  unless  I 
fulfill  the  conditions  imposed  in  the  sending," 

"Eeasoned  like  Coke  or  Blackstone!  A  veritable  Portia!  Yet  I  refuse  to 
admit  it.  That  precious  brother  of  yours,  for  the  first  time,  has  sent  you  a 
share  of  what  is  yours  by  right." 

"But,  James,  you  surely  cannot  forget  that  Victor  has  struggled  unaided 
to  hold  the  plantation  in  order  that  eventually  it  may  be  restored  to  something 
like  its  former  value?  He  writes  that  he  has  diverted  the  sum  from  many 
necessary  repairs  and  additions,  but  is  willing,  for  Mamma's  sake,  to  forego 
those  necessities,  and  urges  that  I  shall  come  as  quickly  as  possible.  James,  I 
am  pleading  for  my  mother's  life,  not  my  own  gratification.  Surely  you  hav« 
not  forgotten  what  your  fate  would  probably  have  been  if  her  generous  Southern 
heart  had  not  forgotten  all  and  dealt  with  you  as  if  you  were  her  own  son.  You 
cannot  forget " 

"That  I  paid  that  debt  by  marrying  her  daughter,"  he  said  airily. 

The  old  innuendo  for  once  lost  its  effect  on  Eita.  She  bowed  her  head  in 
her  hands,  and  tears,  the  bitterest  she  had  ever  wept,  trickled  through  the  half- 
closed  fingers.  Perhaps  it  was  her  attitude  of  utter  woe,  the  entire  lack  of  her 
usual  spirit,  that  appealed  mutely,  in  some  strange  way,  to  a  spark  of  manly 
instinct  that  had  so  long  lain  dormant  in  his  warped  nature,  but  he  hesitated  a 
moment,  then  said,  half  banteringly:  "Well,  there,  little  girl,  I  suppose  if  you 
consider  the  bargain  too  one-sided  I'll  have  to  give  you  the  draft,  which,  by  the 
way,  that  cautious  brother  of  yours  has  drawn  in  your  name.  I  suppose  I  am 
not  included  in  the  invitation?" 

"If  you  would,"  Eita  said  tentatively,  then  remembering  Mrs.  Hayward, 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  87 

she  hesitated.  "If  it  were  not  for  your  mother  being  alone,  I  am  sure  both 
Victor  and  Mamma  would  welcome  you.  You  must  remember  I  tell  no  tales  out 
of  school  and  for  aught  they  know  you  are  the  embodiment  of  every  manly 
virtue; ' ' 

"From  which  I  infer  that  in  your  opinion  I  do  not  measure  up  to  that 
standard.    "Well,  I  am  used  to  it.    Here's  your  check." 

Eita  made  no  comment  to  this,  but  picking  up  the  check  looked  at  its 
figures. 

"This  amount  is  much  larger  than  that  which  Claire  considers  necessary  for 
her  trip.  I  will  take  strictly  what  is  necessary  for  Mam  Tel  and  myself.  The 
balance  I  will  leave  in  your  hands." 

"Thanks,  a  thousand  thanks,  for  such  generosity,"  Captain  Hayward  said, 
sneeringly,  as  he  bowed  himself  mockingly  out  of  the  room. 

Fearing  less  something  might  cause  Captain  Hayward  to  withdraw  his  con- 
sent Eita  hastily  gathered  her  belongings  and  was  ready  to  accompany  Claire. 

Although,  of  course,  Eita  was  anxious  to  reach  Esperance  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, it  was  decided  they  would  linger  a  day  or  two  in  New  Orleans,  that  Claire 
might  get  some  insig^ht  as  to  the  habits  and  customs  of  this  essentially  Latin 
city.  This  appealed  more  strongly  to  Eita  inasmuch  as  they  reached  the  city 
on  the  eve  of  All  Saint's  Day,  and  she  desired  Claire  to  see  the  cemeteries  in 
their  holiday  attire,  a  scene  at  that  time  strictly  confined  to  New  Orleans,  but 
which  has  now  its  counterpart  over  the  whole  country  in  the  decoration  of  the 
graves  of  Federal  and  Confederate  dead;  thereby  converting  a  ceremony  of  re- 
ligious origin  into  a  patriotic  custom. 

As  Claire  wandered  through  the  aisles  of  the  peculiar  cities  of  the  dead, 
and  saw'  the  elaborateness  of  some  of  the  decorations  and  the  simplicity  of  others, 
yet  each  speaking  of  that  communion  with  the  dead  that  is  such  a  beautiful 
teaching  of  the  Catholic  Church,  she  instinctively  felt  that  what  she  saw  wa« 
the  visible  expression  of  the  faith  that  led  imperceptibly  from  the  mortal  to 
the  immortal,  from  the  here  to  the  hereafter,  and  as  her  sweet  and  appreciative 
soul  looked  beyond,  alike,  the  grand  blossoms  of  the  rich  and  the  meretricious 
bead  work  and  paper  flowers  of  the  humble,  to  the  sweet  memories  expressed 


88  EIGHT  OE  WRONG  j  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 

alike  by  both,  she  could  not  but  appreciate  the  generous  warmth  of  an  affection 
that  often  at  a  sacrifice  of  self,  renewed  each  year,  for  a  day,  with  prayers  and 
gifts,  the  association  of  other  days  with  the  dead. 

Eita's  first  care  on  reaching  the  city  was  to  visit  the  marble  mausoleum  in 
which  her  father  rested  by  the  side  of  the  other  Levilliers  who  had  been  guests 
at  the  banquet  of  life,  some  to  tarry  only  an  instant,  others  until  the  goblet 
had  been  drained  to  the  leas.  The  beautiful  tomb  showed  the  care  loving 
hearts  and  faithful  hands  had  bestowed  upon  it.  From  her  meagre  store,  Eita 
took  a  sufficient  sum  to  secure  a  bunch  of  roses  and  laid  them  at  the  entrance. 

Mam  Tel  had  not  forgotten,  and  her  flowers  lay  cheek  by  jowl  alongside  of 
Eita's  love  offering. 

Leaving  Claire  in  Mam  Tel's  charge,  Eita  slipped  away  to  seek  Father 
Turgis  at  the  Home  for  the  Widows  and  Orphans  of  Confederate  Soldiers,  it 
had  been  his  pride  and  loving  duty  to  establish  on  lines  the  most  practical,  not 
pauperizing  these,  but  giving  them  a  shelter  from  whose  walls,  as  from  a  safe 
harbor,  each  should  sally  to  earn  her  daily  bread,  and  yet,  when  sickness  or 
want  overtook  them,  should  find  help  and  assistance  until  restored  to  health  and 
useful  activity.  You  will  seek  in  vain  for  this  haven.  It  perished  with  its 
founder. 

Mrs.  Levillier  had  often  spoken  in  her  letters  to  Eita  of  the  self-sacrifice 
and  devotion  of  the  good  old  priest  to  the  upbuilding  of  the  home,  and  Eita  was 
prepared  for  the  change  in  the  once  erect  figure  and  the  sweet  ageing  of  the 
face  on  which  was  written  indelible  lines  of  a  beauty  that  is  of  the  soul. 

A  joyful  look  illumined  the  venerable  face  as  his  eyes  rested  on  the 
woman  whose  steps  he  had  guided  in  the  path  of  faith  and  rectitude.  He  looked 
long  and  earnestly  and  read  in  the  droop  of  the  mouth,  in  the  shadows  that 
lay  in  the  depths  of  the  young  eyes  much  that  the  ordinary  observer  might  have 
failed  to  see.  Pretending,  however,  to  ignore  these  signs  that  told  him  so 
plainly  that  all  was  not  well,  he  clasped  her  hand,  and  in  his  gentle  way,  said: 

"Well,  well,  well!  what  a  sight  for  these  old  eyes!  I  feel  ten  years  younger 
to  see  my  little  girl  looking  scarcely  a  day  older  than  on  the  day  we  parted,  on 
that  memorable  wedding  day." 


EIGHT  OE  WEOiN'G;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  89 

"Did  you  expect  grey  hairs  and  wrinkles  in  five  years,  Father?"  Bita 
laughingly  replied.  Then,  losing  heart,  at  the  effort  at  badinage,  for  which  she 
was  ill-fitted,  the  tears  welled  up  into  the  truthful  eyes,  and  she  cried  out; 
"Oh!  Father!  all  is  not  well  with  your  child." 

"What,  tears?  Come,  come,  this  will  never  do.  Surely  it's  not  as  bad  a| 
that!     Tell  me  child,  as  in  the  confessional,  what  is  wrong?" 

Thus  adjured,  Eita  told,  without  reservation,  the  disappointment  her  mar- 
ried life  was;  how  soon  she  had  known  her  sacrifice  had  been  in  vain,  how  her 
husband,  far  from  being  a  convert  to  the  Ohurch,  was  in  reality  worse  than 
unconverted,  a  blasphemer  and  an  atheist,  a  gambler  and  a  man  of  no  honesty 
of  purpose. 

The  old  priest  listened  uninterruptedly  to  the  story  of  her  sorrow  and  disi- 
appointments,  and  when  Eita  stopped,  exhausted  by  the  rehearsal  of  her  struggles 
and  her  wrongs,  he  asked  quietly:  "And  how  have  you  met  these  trials  my 
child?  Have  you  been  gentle  and  patient,  and  turned  away  wrath  with  a  soft 
answer?" 

In  spite  of  the  gravity  of  the  conversation,  Eita  smiled  as  she  recalled  the 
very  spicy  dialogue,  that,  for  the  most  part,  punctuated  her  intercourse  with 
her  husband. 

"I  very  much  fear  that  meekness  and  mildness  are  not  my  forte.  Father. 
My  arguments  are  generally  of  the  vigorous  kind,  never  by  any  chance  degenerat- 
ing into  vulgarity,  but  on  the  other  hand,  as  far  removed  from  the  quiet  an^ 
gentle  kind." 

"Did  you  ever  try  the  latter?" 

"No,  I  cannot  say  I  ever  did,"  was  the  prompt  and  truthful  reply.  "That 
kind  might  do  with  some,  but  never  with  James  Hayward.  I  have  tried 
silence,  if  not  a  soft  answer,  but  that  only  aggravated  matters." 

"Possibly  because  that  silence  savored  too  much  of  contempt,  did  it  not, 
my  daughter?" 

"Perhaps,"  Eita  admitted  reluctantly. 

"Then  what  is  it  you  would  do,  for  I  see  you  have  some  fixed  plan,"  tl^jP 
old  man  said  shrewdly. 


90  EIGHT  OR  WKONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

"To  put  as  great  a  distance  between  myself  and  my  husband  as  is  possible." 

"Child,  child,  you  do  not  mean  divorce?" 

Rita  hung  her  head  in  shame  at  the  word  she  had  always  held  as  one  of 
opprobrium  and  disgrace. 

Oh,  no,  not  exactly!"  she  hastened  to  protest.  "But  a  separation.  Does 
not  the  Church  permit  that?" 

"Yes,  when  all  other  means  tiave  failed.  A  true  soldier  of  the  cross  no 
more  deserts  his  post  on  the  first  alarm  than  did  the  soldier  of  our  motherland. 
He  can  die,  but  he  cannot  be  a  recreant  to  duty.  Remember  your  cross,  if  cross 
it  is,  was  not  imposed  upon  you.    You  took  it  up  of  your  own  free  will." 

^'True,  from  a  mistaken  sense  of  duty,  you  will  admit,  Father;  then  why  am 
I  beset  by  the  temptation  to  end  it  all  one  way  or  the  otter?" 

Father  Turgis  was  sorely  troubled.  He  knew  and  understood  the  struggle 
that  was  going  on  in  the  young  soul  of  this  child,  scarcely  a  woman  in  experi- 
ence of  the  evil  of  the  world,  yet  whose  strong,  impulsive  nature,  ill  brooked  the 
role  of  a  patient  Griselda.  For  an  instant,  his  heart  breathed  a  prayer  that  he 
might  guide  aright  this  white  soul,  to  whom,  till  now,  serious  temptation  had 
been  unknown,  then  he  said:  "Why  did  God  allow  his  own  son  to  be  tempted, 
child?  To  all  of  us  come  temptations  before  which  we  stand  aghast,  so  foreign 
do  they  seem  to  every  instinct  of  our  better  natures  and  so  divergent  to  lessons 
imbided  from  the  cradle  that  it  passes  understanding,  even  if  we  successfully 
resist  it  and  are  able  to  say  'Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan!'  God  in  his  goodness 
to  his  children,  to  those  who  are  born  with  lower  instincts  and  propensities, 
permits  higber  natures  to  feel  in  their  own  hearts  to  what  depths  of  degrada- 
tion poor  human  nature  can  fall,  to  teach  us  charity — charity  not  alone  in  the 
doling  out  of  a  crust  to  the  starving  body,  but  the  charity  of  the  heart  to  the 
sorely  tried,  or  even  to  the  poor  soiled  soul." 

Rita  bowed  her  head  in  silence,  and  listened  to  the  words  of  the  old  man, 
then  whispered:     "Father,  what  would  you  have  me  do?" 

"Conquer  yourself,  my  daughter.  Return  to  your  husband,  take  up  your 
cross,  and  follow  Him,  who,  sinless,  yet  bore  ignominy  even  to  the  death  of  the 


EIGHT  OE  WEOTsTG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  91 

cross  that  he  might  save  us.  May  he  give  you  comfort  in  the  struggle.  God 
bless  and  guide  you,  my  daughter." 

Victor  and  Mrs.  Levillier  met  the  three  travelers  at  the  little  station  on 
what  is  now  the  Southern  Pacific,  but  was  then  the  Morgan  Eailroad. 

Eita  was  struck,  expecting  it,  though  she  was,  at  her  mother's  pallid  face, 
and  evident  weakness;  yet  Victor  insisted  she  had  improved  since  she  knew 
Eita  was  coming  and  declared  that  she  soon  would  be  her  old  self  again. 

Victor  was  right.  In  a  month,  no  trace  of  her  illness  was  apparent,  and 
when  Eita  announced  her  return  home,  her  mother  made  no  serious  objection. 
Claire  was  to  remain  the  whole  winter,  as  the  change  had  been  most  beneficial, 
but  was  not  considered  sufficiently  permanent  to  allow  of  a  return  to  the  rigors 
of  a  northern  climate. 

Perhaps  the  most  disquieting  incident  of  their  departure  to  Mrs.  Levillier, 
was  Mam  Tel's  determination  to  follow  Eita,  despite  the  latter 's,  as  well  as 
Mrs.  Levillier 's,  urging  to  remain.  "Mo  Piti  needs  me,"  was  her  invariable 
reply  to  all  arguments.    A  week  later,  Eita  was  back  in  her  husband's  home. 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

The  following  month,  the  last  Sunday  was  ushered  in  by  bitter  cold.  Dur- 
ing the  night  the  mercury  fell  incredibly  fast.  Mam  Tel  brought  up  Eita's 
morning  coffee.  "It's  mighty  cold,  Mo  Piti,  and  you  had  best  stay  in  bed," 
she  said,  as  Eita  prepared  to  rise. 

"No,  indeed,  Mam  Tel,  1  am  going  to  early  mass,  cold  or  no  cold.  It 
does  seem  to  me  as  if  I  do  not  mind  the  cold  here  half  as  much  as  I  used  to 
at  home.    It  must  be  the  sudden  contrasts  that  made  it  harder  to  bear  there." 

Eita  was  back  in  less  than  an  hour,  and  entered  the  breakfast  room. 
Captain  Hayward  was  there,  but  the  absence  of  his  mother,  usually  so  punctual, 
struck  Eita  unfavorably— 

"Where  is  Auntie f" 

"Mrs.  Hayward  has  a  bad  cold,  and  feels  too  sick  to  get  up,"  said 
Abigail,  who  just  then  came  in  with  the  breakfast — 

"I'll  go  immediately  and  see  if  she  needs  anything,"  and  Eita  rose  to 
leave  the  room. 

"Your  filial  politeness  can  wait,  the  breakfast  cannot."  Eita  hesitated, 
then  yielded  the  point. 

The  breakfast  passed  off  in  silence.    At  last.  Captain  Hayward  rose. 

"Is  there  anything  more  I  can  do  for  you?"    Eita  asked  dutifully. 

"I  guess  not,  at  present." 

"If  you  need  me,  call,"  and  Eita  left  the  room. 

She  found  Mrs.  Hayward  with  flushed  cheeks  and  breathing  heavily.  Th« 
half-closed  lids  opened  as  Eita  softly  approached  the  bed. 

*'Why,  Auntie,"  she  said  cheerfully,  assuming  a  sprightliness  she  did  not 
feel,  as  she  saw  the  suffering  face.  "I  was  going  to  say  'Good  morning,'  but 
no  morning  can  be  good  that  brings  you  suffering  and  deprive  us  of  your  pres- 
ence at  breakfast.    "When  were  you  taken  sick?" 

"Several  days  ago,  I  developed  a  slight  cold,  but  paid  no  attention  to  it; 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  93 

but  last  night  I  had  a  chill,  I  am  sure,  and  shortly  after  a  sharp  pain  under 
my  shoulder  kept  me  awake  all  night." 

"Why  did  you  not  call  me,  Auntie!" 

"Because  James  dislikes  to  be  disturbed,  and  I  felt  I  could  wait  until 
morning. '  * 

"Have  you  sent  for  Doctor  Wilson?" 

"I  don't  think  it  necessary.  Abigail  has  been  anxious  to  rub  and  blistei 
me,  but  I  declined  with  thanks.  I  just  feel  as  though  if  I  only  could  lie  quiet, 
it  would  be  all  right.  I  don't  want  Doctor  Wilson,  "I  just  want  to  sleep,*' 
and  even  as  she  spoke,  she  seemed  to  sink  into  slumber. 

Tiptoeing  out  of  the  room,  Eita  returned  to  the  breakfast  room. 

"James,  I  find  your  mother  quite  sick.    I  fear  pneumonia." 

"Pray  what  is  your  experience  in  such  matters?" 

Eita  flushed  painfully  at  the  intended  sneer.  Eecovering  her  self-control, 
she  replied: 

"None  to  speak  of,  but  that  makes  it  all  the  more  imperative  to  have 
someone  who  does.    I  think  it  would  be  well  to  send  for  Dr.  Wilson." 

"Does  my  mother  desire  it?" 

"Truthfully,  I  cannot  say  she  does.  Sick  people  often  have  such  fancies, 
but,  as  a  rule,  they  are  rarely  the  best  judges  of  their  own  condition." 

"With  due  reference  to  your  great  knowledge  on  that  and  every  other 
subject,  I  prefer  to  be  guided  by  mother's  wishes,"  and  without  another  word, 
he  left  the  house. 

As  the  hours  passed,  Eita  noted  more  and  more,  the  distressed  condition 
of  the  patient.  The  combat  between  her  fear  of  displeasing  both  the  mother 
and  son,  and  her  desire  to  do  what  she  felt  ought  to  be  done,  kept  her  in 
a  state  of  subdued  excitement. 

Suddenly  Mrs.  Hayward  opened  her  eyes  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"What  would  you  do  dear,  if  it  was  your  own  mother  who  was  in  my 
place?" 

"Send  for  a  doctor  at  once." 

"Then  what?" 


94  EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 

"Nurse  ber  just  as  I  expect  to  nurse  you,  dear  Auntie." 

"Then  what?" 

"Eita  was  puzzled,  and  looked  questioningly  at  Mrs.  Hayward. 

'  *  Suppose  you  were  sure  she  would  never  get  well,  what  would  you  do 
then?" 

Eita  looked  helplessly  at  the  sick  woman.  She  could  not  follow  the  drift 
of  these  enigmatic  questions  to  a  natural  conclusion.  All  at  once  her  face 
lighted  up.    "Shall  I  send  for  Doctor  Brooks?"  she  asked. 

"I  said,  if  your  mother  were  lying  in  my  place.  Would  you  send  for  the 
Eev.  Dr.  Brooks?" 

With  a  cry  of  joy,  Rita  threw  herself  on  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  and 
covered  the  hands  she  held  with  kisses. 

"Oh!  Auntie,  you  cannot  mean  it!  you  cannot  mean  it!" 

"But  I  do  mean  it,  dear!  Does  it  astonish  you  so  much?  Have  you  never 
suspected?  Well,  after  all,  I  am  a  silent  old  woman,  and  I've  kept  my  own 
counsels.  I  have  a  premonition  that  the  end  is  not  far  off,  so  I  would  be 
prepared.  Send  for  Dr.  Wilson  and  any  priest  you  may  prefer.  I  am  not, 
perhaps,  entirely  prepared,  but  He  who  reads  all  hearts  will  see  the  great 
desire  of  mine  and  look  with  mercy  on  my  shortcomings.  Go,  dear,  send  Mam 
Tel  to  sit  with  me.    I  know  she  will  rejoice  with  you." 

"Let  me  first  send  for  Dr.  Wilson." 

"As  you  please,  my  child,  but  do  not  delay  too  long.     Where  is  James?" 

"Gone  to  bis  office.  He  came  in  while  you  slept  and  left  without  disturbing 
you.  I  do  not  believe  he  will  object  to  the  step  you  are  taking,  but  there  is 
one  I  fear  who  will  look  upon  it  as  a  personal  blow — Abigail." 

A  smile  hovered  for  a  moment  around  the  corners  of  Mrs,  Hayward 'b 
mouth. 

"Poor  Abigail!  Even  her  devotion  to  me  will  scarcely  prevent  her  resent- 
ing my  defection  from  her  ideas  of  orthodoxy." 

"Don't  talk  any  more,  it  tires  you.  I  will  send  Abigail  for  Dr.  Wilson, 
and  after  that  will  break  the  news  to   her   as  gently  as  I  can."     And   Eita 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  95 

laughed  as  she  pictured  Abigail's  proper  state  of  astonishment,  if  nothing 
■worse. 

Dr.  Wilson  confirmed  Eita's  worst  fears.  Mrs.  Hayward  was  suffering  from 
an  attack  of  pneumonia,  aggravated,  no  doubt,  by  delay  in  treatment.  Every 
care  would  be  necessary.  Eita  installed  Mam  Tel  as  nurse,  and  hastily  donning 
her  street  dress  for  her  ride  to  the  Church,  she  sought  Abigail,  who  showed 
her  anxiety  by  her  eager  questions. 

"I  am  sorry  to  say,  Abigail,  Dr.  Wilson  finds  Mrs.  Hayward  very  ill,  and 
says  it  will  take  the  best  of  care  to  pull  her  through." 

"Then  what  are  you  doing  tricked  out  for  the  street  if  your  mother-in- 
law  is  that  sick?" 

"I  am  going  to  have  Dr.  Wilson's  prescriptions  filled  while  I  go  on  to 
St.  Agnes'  Church." 

"A  pretty  time  to  choose  to  go  to  Church!  Can't  I  go  for  the  medicines?" 
Eita  paused  a  moment.  "Certainly,  Abigail,  but  I  am  not  going  to  Church.  I 
am  going  at  Auntie's  request,  to  bring  Father  Conway  to  see  her." 

For  an  instant,  Abigail  stood  aghast,  horror  and  incredulity  depicted  on 
her  face,  the  next,  she  sprang  to  the  door,  locked  it,  and  put  the  key  in  her 
pocket. 

"You'll  do  nothing  like  that;"  she  cried.  "Didn't  I  tell  Miss  Claire  you 
and  that  nigger  would  hoodoo  us!  A  popish  priest,  indeed!  And  this  a  God- 
fearing house  until  you  came!  For  shame!  for  shame!  to  treat  a  good  woman 
like  that!  I  might  believe  it  of  that  nigger,  but  I  never  could  have  believed 
it  of  you,  with  your  nice,  sweet  ways."  And  Abigail  broke  down  completely 
and  sobbed  boisterously. 

Eita  had  been  prepared  for  opposition,  but  scarcely  for  this  wild  abuse 
and  accusations.  She  allowed  Abigail  to  sob  out  her  indignation,  then  said 
quietly:  "Abigail,  you  forget  that  this  is  Mrs.  Hayward 's  house,  and  that 
her  son  is  my  husband;  consequently,  that  I  have  rights  here  which  you  are 
bound  to  respect.     Give  me  that  key ! ' ' 

Abigail,  half  reluctantly,  half  defiantly,  complied. 

"For  the  sake  of  the  real  love  that  has  inspired  your  words  and  actions, 


96  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

I  forgive  you.  Now,  come  -with  me,  and  Mrs.  Hayward,  herself,  will  tell  you 
■what  she  wishes.     Come!" 

Abigail,  hung  back.  In  spite  of  her  indignation,  she  felt  sure  that  Eita  had 
spoken  the  truth,  yet  feared  to  put  it  to  the  test. 

Eita  saw  her  hesitation,  and  quietly  opening  the  door,  passed  out,  saying 
softly:  "Abigail,  don't  forget  that  Mrs.  Hayward  is  pretty  sick,  so  don't  be 
too  harsh." 

"If  she  is,  whose  fault  is  it  if  it  ain't  that  black  woman's!" 

Eita  took  no  notice  of  this  renewal  of  hostilities. 

"How  are  you,  Ma'm  "  asked  Abigail,  controlling  as  best  she  could,  her 
evident  emotion,  but  it  soon  overmastered  her  good  intentions,  and  she  con- 
tinued without  waiting  for  a  reply.  "If  you  do  as  I  say,  you'll  be  well  in  a 
jiffy.  Just  send  that  woman,"  pointing  to  Mam  Tel,  "out  of  this  house,  before 
she's  the  death  of  you." 

Mrs.  Hayward  smiled  wanly.  "This  disease  may  be  the  death  of  me,  but 
Mam  Tel  is  not  responsible  for  it. " 

"All  right,  Ma'm,  jest  as  you  say.  But  what  I  came  in  here  for  was  tc 
find  out  if  it  was  of  your  own  free  will  that  Mrs.  James  was  going  to  bring 
that  popish  priest,  Father  Conway,  here.*' 

"It  certainly  is  my  wish  to  see  a  priest  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and 
knowing  none,  I  have  left  the  choice  to  my  daughter." 

"Are  you  sure  you  know  what  you're  talking  about,  or  have  they  be- 
tsitched  you?" 

Rita  here  interposed.  "Abigail!  I  cannot  allow  you  to  continue  such 
language.  I,  perhaps,  foolishly,  allowed  you  to  be  convinced  of  Auntie's 
■wishes.     You  have  her  answer.     That  is  sufficient." 

"No,  it  ain't,  least  wise,  I  ain't  going  to  stay  here,  since  I  can't  help 
straighten  things  out,  and  I'm  going  without  giving  -warning.  Sixteen  years, 
Bummer  and  winter,  I've  drudged  for  Mrs.  Hayward  and  Mr.  James,  when  he 
was  here,  and  never  complained.  T  wish  Miss  Claire  was  here!  But  I  can't 
do  anything,  so  I'm  off  jnst  as  quick  as  I  can  get  out,  even  if  you  do  keep 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  97 

what's  coining  to  me!"  and  she  flounced  out  of  the  room  a  living  example  of 
religious  fanaticism  and  misguided  zeal. 

"C'est  ca  li  p61e  la  religion  et  la  charite?"  (Is  that  what  she  calls  re- 
ligion and  charity?)  commented  Mam  Tel. 

The  interview'  had  been  very  painful  to  Mrs.  Hayward  for  she  had  grown 
accustomed  to  Abigail's  abrupt  manner  of  speech,  and  appreciated  all  hei 
sterling  qualities.  Nor  did  she  fail  to  remember  that  only  a  short  time  ago, 
her  own  feelings  were  very  much  akin  to  Abigail's  on  the  subject  of  Cath- 
olicity. 

Much  to  Rita's  surprise,  it  was  Abigail  who  opened  the  door  for  Father 
Conway  and  herself.  Though  giving  no  sign  of  relenting  as  to  her  purpose 
of  leaving,  Abigail  had  indignantly  refused  the  money  due  her.  She,  perhaps, 
expected  some  word  from  Rita,  but  thinking  silence  the  best  rebuke,  the  latter 
gave  no  sign,  but  was  well  pleased  to  see  the  scowling  looks  converted  into  an 
expression  of  almost  friendly  welcome  as  her  eyes  rested  on  the  benigh 
countenance  of  the  venerable  man.    From  Mam  Tel  she  heard  the  explanation. 

Shortly  after  Rita's  departure,  Abigail  entered  Mrs.  Hayward 's  room, 
dressed  for  the  street. 

"I've  come  to  tell  you  good-bye,  Ma'm." 

"Good-bye,  Abigail,"  replied  Mrs.  Hayward  in  a  weak,  low  voice.  "I  am 
sorry  you  think  it  your  duty  to  leave  me,  but,  after  all,  we  must  each  act 
according  to  the  dictates  of  our  conscience,  so  I  cannot  ask  you  to  change  your 
mind." 

Mrs.  Hayward  spoke  with  such  effort,  Abigail  was  visibly  moved,  and  sud' 
denly  untieing  her  bonnet  strings,  she  cried:  "I  ain't  agoing  to  change  my 
mind,  as  to  who  has  done  this  thing,  but  I'm  going  to  stay,  and  wrestle  with 
the  powers  of  evil.  It  shan't  be  said  I  left  you  alone  in  the  hands  of  th« 
Philistines." 

"Very  well,  Abigail,  but  there  must  be  no  contention.  Give  me  the  sam«»^ 
rights  I  give  you." 

"So  I  shall,  Ma'm,  so  I  shall,"  and  thus  Abigail  had  taken  up  her  daily 
tasks  once  more. 


98  RIGHT  OR  WRO^G;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

As  Rita  introduced  Father  Conway  into  the  sick  room,  she  watched  anxiously 
what  effect  he  would  produce  on  Mrs.  Hayward.  She  saw,  with  boundless 
thankfulness,  the  look  of  anxiety,  she  had  almost  said  of  affright,  give  plac* 
to  one  of  ineffable  peace  as  the  venerable  old  man  acknowledged  the  introduction 
by  raising  his  hand,  and  three  times  invoking  a  blessing  on  the  sick  woman  in 
the  name  of  the  Blessed  Trinity.  Then  with  courtly  manners,  he  took  the 
hand  Mrs.  Hayward  held  out  to  him  and  said:  "Madam,  I  am  pleased  to  meet 
you,  though  I  could  wish  the  circumstances  were  more  propitious." 

"Perhaps,  under  more  propitious  circumstances,  we  might  never  have  met, 
so  you  and  I  may  consider  this  illness  a  blessing,  after  all,"  Mrs.  Hayward 
replied,  smilingly.  "And  if  I  have  found  the  necessity  for  your  presence,  it 
is  due  to  this  dear  child,  who  first  awoke  within  me  doubts  as  to  those  things 
which  all  my  life  I  held  as  absolute  truths."     She  paused.    . 

"Shall  I  leave  the  room,  Father?" 

"Not  at  present,  I  think  your  fears  have  exaggerated  your  mother's  con- 
dition. We  need  be  in  no  hurry,  and  can  take  matters  more  leisurely  than  you 
expected.    Mrs.  Hayward,  how  long  have  you  contemplated  this  step?" 

"Something  over  six  months.  At  first,  I  was  startled  by  the  continual 
recurrence  of  the  words  Rita  occasionally  let  fall.  I  was  annoyed  at  my  own 
doubts  and  fought  them  really  and  honestly,  bolstering  my  desires  by  every 
argument  I  had  ever  heard  in  defense  of  the  faith  I  had  cherished  all  my  life 

"The  memory  of  my  childhood,  the  recollection  of  my  mother's  faith,  the 
lesson  taught  by  my  father,  a  good,  sincere  man,  all  helped  in  the  battle  against 
myself. ' ' 

"Do  not  exhaust  yourself,  my  daughter.  Allow  me  to  put  the  questions. 
A  nod  of  your  head  or  a  word  will  be  sufficient.  Have  you  studied  this  ques- 
tion other  than  through  those  things  that  Mrs.  Hayward,  unintentionally  I 
believe,  has  taught  you?" 

Mrs.  Hayward  smiled.  "I  bought  a  catechism  and  some  books  that  Bit* 
mentioned  casually. 

"Then  you  understand  what  is  most  essential  in  asking  admission  to  the 
Church.     So  many  make  the  mistake  of  believing  that  for  the  sake  of  making 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  99 

converts  the  Chtirch  admits  any  and  all  who  apply.  Such  is  not  the  case.  She 
demands  not  only  a  profession  of  faith,  but  an  actual  knowledge  in  what  faith 
consists.    Have  you  ever  been  baptized?" 

"Yes,  at  the  time  I  openly  professed  the  religion  of  my  fathers." 

"The  Church  accepts  as  a  means  of  salvation  even  lay  baptism,  but  she 
gives  conditional  baptism,  as  she  cannot  know  if  the  conditions  which  go  to- 
wards making  a  true  baptism  have  been  complied  with.  Are  you  willing  to 
accept  this  baptism?" 

"I  am,"  responded  Mrs.  Hay  ward,  and  turning  to  Rita,  added:  "Come, 
my 'child,  you  shall  be  my  sponsor  in  this  faith  so  old  to  you,  so  new  to  me!" 

"Oh,  Auntie,  how  can  I  thank  God  for  such  words  from  your  lips;"  and 
tears,  blessed  tears  of  joy  and  hope,  fell  thick  and  fast  as  Rita  took  her  place 
at  the  bedside  and  took  Mrs.  Hayward's  hand  in  hers. 

As  the  beautiful  rites  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  administering  the  uni- 
versal sacrament  ended,  Rita  stooped  and  kissed  Mrs.  Hayward  with  a  love 
and  reverence  she  had  never  felt  before. 

"My  little  godmother,"  murmured  the  new  convert,  as  she  returned  the 

caress. 

Mam  Tel,  who  at  the  first  inkling  of  what  was  to  take  place,  had  fallen 
on  her  knees  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  praying  softly,  rose,  approached  Mrs.  Hay- 
ward,  knelt  once  more,  and  taking  the  hot  hand,  kissed  it  reverentially. 

Father  Conway  took  his  leave,  promising  to  return  on  the  morrow. 

That  evening,  on  Captain  Hayward's  return,  Rita's  first  care  was  to  inform 
him  of  what  had  taken  place. 

His  only  comment  was  a  whistle. 

"As  you  instructed  me  to  follow  your  mother's  orders,  I  obeyed,"  said 
Eita. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.  I  was  only  thinking  whether  it  was  a  case  of 
"The  devil  fell  ill,  the  devil  a  monk  would  be!" 

"For  shame,  James  Hayward!  God  help  the  wife  and  mother  of  the  maa 
to  whom  nothing  is  sacred  1" 


BIGHT  OR  WEONG;  A  TALE  OP  WAR  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Mrs.  Hayward  spent  a  bad  night,  and  the  next  morning,  Dr.  Wilson  tound 
the  symptoms  aggrevated. 

"What  are  Auntie's  chances,  Doctor?"  Rita  asked,  as  she  followed  the 
doctor  out  of  the  room. 

"Pneumonia  is  dangerous  at  any  age,  at  hers  the  chances  are  decidedly 
against  her,  though  worse  cases  have  recovered,  but  as  a  rule,  these  were  cases 
where  the  patient  fought  the  battle  with  me.  Mrs.  Hayward  is  passive.  She 
seems  indifferent  to  the  outcome." 

Rita  reported  the  latter  portion  of  the  doctor's  verdict  to  the  sick  woman. 

"Now,  Auntie,  this  will  never  do!     You  must  help  yourself." 

"Am  I  not  in  the  hands  of  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well?  Child,  life 
at  your  age  is  full  of  promise  and  beautiful  dreams,  at  mine,  it  has  lost  its 
roseate  hues,  and  hope  deferred  has  made  the  heart  sick.  As  I  look  back  over 
the  road  I  have  traveled  these  sixty  years,  I  find  few  spots  hallowed  by  un- 
alloyed happiness  and  I  truly  realize  that 

"  'Some  flowers  of  Eden  we  still  inherit; 
But  the  trail  of  the  serpent  is  over  them  all.' 

"Rest  satisfied,  my  dear  daughter,  I  will  do  nothing  to  jeopardize  my 
chances  of  recovery  if  it  is  His  will.    But  I  am  weary  and  would  rest." 

Silence  fell  on  both,  and  an  unquiet  slumber  for  an  hour  betrayed  the  fact 
that  even  in  sleep  Mrs.  Hayward  had  not  forgotten  the  days  she  had  declared 
were  fraught  with  so  much  anguish.     At  last  she  opened  her  eyes. 

"Rita,  some  time  ago  I  heard  you  read  from  a  paper  sent  you  by  your 
mother,  an  article  that  seems  very  suitable  to  my  condition.  Have  you  kept 
it?" 

Rita  pondered  a  moment.    "Do  you  mean  'Life  and  Death.'  "* 

"Yes,  get  it  and  read  it  to  me,  dear." 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  101 

Rita  did  as  she  was  bid.     As  she  began,  Mrs.  Hayward  interrupted  her — 

"Not  that.     Life  is  behind  me.    It  is  to  the  other  I  must  look." 

Rita  hesitated  a  moment,  then  resumed. 

*"If  life  with  its  manifold  cares,  its  palpable  duties,  its  feverish  dreams 
its  unrealized  longings,  is  still  a  mystery,  how  much  greater  is  the  cessation 
of  all  active  participation  in  the  bustling  scenes  about  him,  which  man  calls 
death!  If  the  eye  of  man  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  the  surgeon's 
knife  felt,  that  impalpable  essence  called  the  soul,  who  shall  follow  it  to  those 
realms,  where,  freed  from  its  prison  house,  it  soars  untrammeled  to  its  Creator 
understanding  itself?  Who  shall  know  with  what  ineffable  effulgence  the  soul 
is  bathed  on  its  entrance  to  the  heavenly  Jerusalem — ^with  what  joy  it  wel- 
comes the  unfolding  of  the  great  mystery  of  self  knowledge!  "And  yet,  'tis  the 
step  which  must  be  taken  e'er  such  visions  can  be  realized,  that  man  dreads. 
The  thought  that 

"Come  he  slow  or  come  he  fast 

It  is  but  death  that  comes  at  last." 

is  a  philosophy  which  but  few  realize,  and  the  bitterness  of  death  is  the  least 
in  the  goblet  of  life  that  must  be  drained.  To  some,  how  sweet  and  calm  is 
the  approach  to  the  peaceful  haven  of  the  tomb!  How  radiantly  smiles  the 
messenger  beckoning  the  weary  mariner  to  the  port  of  rest  and  peace!  Oh! 
thrice  happy  is  he  who  can  welcome  death  and  sink  into  its  embrace  with  the 
trust  of  the  babe  who  yields  itself  to  sleep,  nestled  in  its  mother's  sheltering 
arms! 

"Ah!  what  a  sign  of  evil  life 

When  death's  approach  is  seen  so  terrible; 

when  the  yielding  up  the  breath  is  fraught  with  fears — when  man  looks  not 
to  the  glorious  immortality  that  lies  beyond  the  gates,  dark  and  forbidding, 
'tis  true  to  his  mortal  sight,  but  beautiful  when  seen  with  the  eyes  of  faith 
through  which  death  ushers  him  to  a  new  and  perennial  life  of  bliss  immeasure- 
able,  because  infinite. 


^Published  in  the  New  Orleans  Times  by  Mrs.  M.  A.  Bailey. 


102  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

"Cardinal  Wiseman,  in  his  peculiarly  graphic  style,  says:  'Science  had 
gone  into  the  grave  and  come  out  scared,  with  tarnished  wings  and  lamp  ex- 
tinguished by  the  foetid  air,  for  she  had  found  a  charnel  house.'  But  religion 
lighted  by  faith  and  sustained  by  hope  has  entered,  and  returning  with  bated 
breath,  but  with  a  radiant  face,  declared  that  she  had  found  the  'furrow  in 
which  the  seed  of  immortality  must  be  cast  e'er  it  blossom  unto  God.'  To  her 
Life  and  Death  are  alike,  traced  to  Him  who  holds  the  waters  in  the  hollow  of 
His  hand,  and  says  to  the  troubled  waters  of  Life,  as  once  in  Galilee,  'Peace, 
be  stilH '  and  to  whom  Life 's  broad  river  is  but  a  drop  in  the  great  depths  of 
eternity. ' ' 

"Those  are  beautiful  and  comforting  thoughts,"  said  Mrs.  Hay  ward  as 
Rita  ceased  reading.  "And  no  less  comforting  to  me  is  the  thought  that  after 
death,  we  Catholics,"  Mrs.  Hayward  laid  stress  on  the  words  that,  for  the 
first  time,  included  her  in  that  great  communion  that  reaches  from  earth  to 
heaven,  and  that  can  and  does  stretch  out  a  helping  hand  to  those  who  have 
gone  before.  "I  think  that  your  belief  in  Purgatory  was  the  first  that  drew 
me  to  the  higher  and  holier  beliefs  of  the  Church.  It  had  never  struck  me 
how  clearly  it  is  indicated  in  the  Holy  Scriptures.  "And  he  himself  shall  be 
saved  as  by  fire  (1st  Corrinthians  3-15),  and  "It  is  a  holy  and  wholesome  thought 
to  pray  for  the  dead"  (Manuel).  It  is  such  a  beautiful  thought  to  me  that 
when  I  am  gone  and  you  pray  for  your  own  dear  ones,  you  will  not  forget  me. 
Will  you,  dear  child?" 

Tears  filled  Rita's  eyes,  as  she  replied: 

"O'h!  Auntie,  how  could  I  forget  one  so  true,  so  brave,  so  kind  as  you! 
If  God  sees  fit  to  take  from  me  your  loving  presence,  no  day  shall  pass,  as  long 
as  I  live,  that-  I  shall  forget  to  pray  for  you,  though  you  may  long  e'er  then 
have  passed  the  portals  of  the  holy  of  holies,  where  nothing  defiled  can  enter, 
sure  that  my  prayers  will  not  be  in  vain,  but  will  be  applied  to  those  poor 
souls  who  have  none  to  pray  for  them." 

Captain  Hayward  here  knocked  for  admission. 

"Well,  how  are  vou,  old  lady?"  he  asked  airily.     "I  understand  vou  !i;tvo 


RIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  103 

followed    in    your    son's    footsteps.      What    inducements    did    'Circe'    hold    out 
to  you?    It  was  easy  to  account  for  my  apostacy  for  she  was  not  a 

' ' Wasteful  women,  she  -who  may 

On  her  sweet  self  set  her  own  price 
Knowing  he  cannot  choose  but  pay — 

How  has  she   cheapened  Paradise — 
Has  given   for   naught  her  priceless   self 

Has  spoilt  the  bread  and  spill 'd  the  wine 
Which  spent  with  due  respective  thrift 

Had  made  brutes  men,  and  men  divine! " 

"She  asked  the  price  and  I  paid  it.    But  you!" 

Rita's  face  crimsoned  with  shame,  and,  unwilling  to  discuss  this  ever  fruit- 
ful subject  of  torture  to  her  sensitive  nature^  she  stole  quietly  out  of  the 
room. 

"My  son!  my  son!  Knowing  Rita  as  you  do,  how  can  you  deliberately 
insult  her  by  pretending  to  misunderstand  her  action?  If  it  was  a  bargain,  she 
certainly  got  the  worst  of  it." 

"Thanks!  Your  candor  is  refreshing.  As  long  as  you  can  be  yourself,, 
as  at  present,  I  am  bound  to  believe  you  in  no  imminent  danger,  so  bye-bye!" 

"Stay  a  moment,  James.  You  ask  what  she  has  given  me.  I  will  tell 
you.  A  gentleness  and  self-control,  not  the  result  of  natural  promptings,  but 
due  to  a  keen  sense  of  duty  and  religious  training  j  a  sturdy  and  uncomplaining 
acceptance  of  the  thorny  path  she  has  trod  since  she  came  here;  without  aggres- 
siveness, a  fearless  champion  of  her  religious  beliefs  and  a  clear  exponent  of 
these  when  called  upon  to  explain  or  defend  them.  These,  my  son,  sum  up  the 
reasons  that  have  led  me  to  accept  them  in  spite  of  prejudice  and  a  life-long 
misconception,  I  wish  that  I  could  feel  sure  that  some  day  you  would  practice 
with  conviction,  the  truths  of  that  Church  which  you,  unfortunately,  only 
feigned  to  accept  to  gain  your  end,  I  may  not  seem  very  ill,  in  your  judgment,, 
but  there  is  an  inward  voice  that  tells  me  I  will  never  be  well  again,  I 
would  go  with  a  calmer  spirit  if  I  could  only  know  that  my  words  had  aroused 
you  to  a  proper  appreciation  of  the  'Pearl  of  great  price,'  as  you  once  mock- 


104  BIGHT  OK  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

ingly  termed  her,  chance,  or  rather  a  divine  Providence  has  given  into  your 
keeping. ' ' 

Mrs.  Hayward  paused.  The  effect  had  evidently  given  her  great  pain,  and 
her  son,  for  a  moment,  was  moved  by  her  suffering  and  her  earnestness. 

"There,  don't  worry,  mother  mine.  I'm  not  half  as  bad  as  you  and  Eita 
will  persist  in  thinking  me,  so  let  us  trust  that  all  will  be  well  in  the  end." 
Moved  more  deeply  than  he  cared  to  show,  Captain  Hayward  left  the  room. 
True  to  promise.  Father  Conway  came  during  the  course  of  the  day.  His 
experienced  eye  told  him  only  too  plainly  the  rapid  strides  the  disease  had 
made  in  the  last  few  hours,  and  confirmed  Dr.  Wilson's  verdict  that  the  end 
was  not  far  off. 

Accordingly  he  intimated  his  desire  to  administer  the  sacrament  of  pen- 
ance to  Mrs.  Hayward.    Rita  and  Mam  Tel  withdrew. 

"My  daughter,"  he  cried,  "reply  to  my  questions  in  as  few  words  as 
possible.    Do  you  believe  in  the  necessity  of  confession  to  the  priest?" 

"I  do,  because  Christ  has  said,  'Wlhose  sins  ye  shall  loose  on  earth, 
they  shall  be  loosed  in  heaven;  whose  sins  ye  shall  bind  on  earth,  they  shall 
be  bound  in  heaven.'  How  can  either  be  done,  if  the  priest  is  not  told  of  our 
sins. ' ' 

"What  do  you  consider  the  most  essential  thing  for  a  good  confession f" 
"A  firm  purpose  of  amendment  for  most  penitents;  for  me  for  whom  there 
is  no  to-morrow,  a  most  sincere  repentance." 

Convinced  and  astonished  by  the  thorough  knowledge  of  the  requisites 
asked  by  the  Church,  indicated  in  her  quaint  reply.  Father  Conway  now  sought 
by  gentle  and  leading  questions  to  assist  Mrs.  Hayward  in  a  review  of  the 
acts  of  omission  and  commission  in  her  long  life. 

As  the  words  of  forgiveness  fell  from  Father  Conway's  lips,  Mrs.  Hayward 
fell  back  with  a  sigh;  the  effort  had  been  too  great;  she  had  fainted. 

With  the  assistance  of,  the  good  old  priest,  restoratives  were  administered 
and  wine  forced  to  the  colorless  lips. 

Father  Conway  had  intended  to  defer  the  administering  of  the  viaticum 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  105 

to  the  next  day,  but  the  weak  condition  of  the  suffering  woman  warned  him 
that  for  her,  as  she  had  said,  there  might  be  no  to-morrow. 

Quickly,  at  the  word,  Mam  Tel  prepared  the  temporary  altar  for  the  most 
solemn  and  most  august  of  all  the  sacred  rites,  the  very  corner  stone  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  faith  in  the  real  presence  of  the  body,  and  blood  of  Christ,  in 
the  Saeram«nt  of  the  Holy  Eucharist  which,  for  Mrs  Hayward,  would  probably 
prove  the  last,  as  it  was  the  first,  participation  and  acceptance  of  this  mystery. 
With  bowed  heads  and  reverential  awe  the  two  watchers,  with  hearts  filled  with 
mingled  joy  and  grief,  participated  spiritually,  as  Father  Conway  pronounced 
the  words,  "Corpus  Domini " 

This  ceremony  Father  Conway  followed  with  the  Sacrament  of  Extreme 
Unction,  which  helps  the  Christian  soul  as  it  wings  its  flight  into  the  unknown. 

Mrs.  Hayward  followed  the  services  with  unlooked  for  strength  and  fervor. 

At  its  conclusion,  she  said,  "Rita,  sing  something?" 

"Oh!  Auntie,  how  can  I  singl  My  heart  is  too  full."  Then  catching  the 
look  of  disappointment  and  longing  on  the  pale  face,  she  said  quickly,  "If 
it  pleases  you,  Auntie,  I  will  try,"  and  throwing  open  the  doors  that  led  into 
the  sitting-room,  she  played  the  prelude  on  the  organ,  and  sang  in  clear  and 
sweet  tones  the  O!  Salutaris  Hostia,  the  words  of  which  seemed  so  appropriate, 

O,   saving   victim,   opening  wide 

The  gate  of  heaven  to  man  below! 
Our  foes  press  on  from  every  side 

Thine  aid  supply.  Thy  strength  bestow. 
To  thy  great  name  be  endless  praise 

Immortal  Godhead  one  in  three, 
Oh,  grant  us  endless  length  of  days 

In  our  true  native  land  with  thee.     Amen. 

Then  she  entoned  the  "Tanctum  Ergo  Sacramentum, "  and  e'er  its  last 
words  fell  from  her  lips,  Mrs.  Hayward  raised  her  head  and  murmured,  "Into 
Thy  hands,' Oh  Lord,  I  commend  my  spirit."  There  was  a  slight  flutter,  and  sh* 
had  solved  the  mystery  of  Life  and  Death. 


EIGHT  OK  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTEE   XVI. 

Claire's  sojourn  during  the  winter  had  proved  most  pleasant  to  all  con 
cerned.  Mrs.  Levillier  soon  took  to  her  heart  the  gentle  girl  of  whom  Rita 
always  spoke  so  enthusiastically.  The  mildness  of  the  climate  that  allowed  of 
daily  excursions  in  the  woods  or  on  the  river  gave  Claire  the  much  needed  oat- 
door  life.  Victor  had  little  time  to  share  these  outings,  but  whenever  he  could 
be  spared  from  the  active  superintendence  in  the  fields,  he  eagerly  accompanied 
her. 

Jean  Manx  still  remained  faithful  and  often  relieved  the  situation  by  tak- 
ing upon  himself  the  cares  Victor  had  at  first  assumed.  Claire,  in  the  first 
weeks  of  her  sojourn,  fought  shy  of  the  young  man.  His  resemblance  to  James 
Hayward  was  a  strong  repelling  force,  but  as  gradually  Victor's  solicitude  for 
his  mother;  his  reverence  for  things  sacred;  his  inflexible  code  of  honor  and 
morality;  his  industry  that  seemed  untiring;  his  justice  towards  the  ignorant 
field  hands,  allowing  no  shirking,  yet  always  considerate  of  them  in  their  troubles, 
all  convinced  Claire  that  the  resemblance  was  only  physical,  and  that  mentally 
and  morally  the  two  natures  were  as  far  apart  as  the  antipodes,  and  for  the 
first  time  she  understood  how  Eita's  knowledge  of  her  brother's  nobility  of 
character  had  blinded  her  to  the  real  defects  of  the  man  who  so  strongly  re- 
sembled him. 

Mrs.  Levillier  was  not  blind  to  what  propinquity  was  doing  for  these  two 
who  were  learning,  almost  imperceptibly  to  themselves,  the  old,  old  lesson  that 
was  taught  to  man  and  woman  when  the  stars  first  sang  together,  yet  is  ever 
n6w  to  each  who  cons  its  honeyed  lines. 

The  two  were  wandering  in  a  paradise  of  their  own  when  a  telegram  from 
Eita  announced  Mrs.  Hayward 's  illness  and  its  probable  fatal  ending,  urging 
Claire's  immediate  return.  .  Hasty  preparations  were  made,  but  no  train  came 
through  before  the  early  morning  hours.  So  Claire  was  obliged  to  curb  as  best 
she  could  her  impatience. 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  107 

The  evening  was  spent  in  the  'salon,'  Mrs.  Levillier  gradually  dozing  over 
her  needle  work,  while  Claire  and  Victor  sat  side  by  side,  yet  strangely  silent. 

Suddenly  Victor  leaned  over  and  whispered:  "Claire,  are  you  sorry  to  leave 
us?" 

'  *  How  can  you  ask  such  a  question  after  what  you  have  all  done  to  make 
life  beautiful  to  me?" 

"Dare  I  be  more  personal  Claire?  Do  you  regret  to  leave  me?"  Then 
not  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  continued.  "I  have  a  confession  to  make  before 
you  reply.  You  have  met  Marie  Le  Baron.  Marie  had  a  sister,  Elise,  on  whom, 
from  my  earliest  boyhood,  I  was  taught  to  look  upon  as  my  future  wife.  Beau- 
tiful, talented,  a  fine  musician,  she  had  all  that  could  captivate  and  hold  a 
man's  deepest  emotions,  and  I  gave  her  my  fondest  affections.  During  the 
four  years  of  war  I  never  saw  Elise,  but  no  doubts  of  her  love  and  fidelity 
disturbed  the  memories  of  our  love. 

No  face  could  make  me  forget  her,  and  I  felt  sure  no  other  could  efface  my 
image  in  her  heart.  Nor  was  I  mistaken;  my  welcome  was  all  I  could  desire, 
and  if  gradually  I  had  something  of  which  to  complain  in  the  shyness,  not  to 
say  coldness  of  her  manner,  I  fondly  laid  it  to  my  too  exacting  nature,  and 
was  totally  unprepared  for  the  blow  she  dealt  me  a  year  after  my  return. 

' '  The  Le  Barons  had  suffered  as  much  financially  as  we  had  so  that  I 
felt  no  hesitation  in  asking  Elise  to  fulfill  the  promise,  made  for  us  by  our 
parents,  and  ratified  by  both  as  we  became  older.  One  evening  I  drove  to  La 
Nouvelle  France,  as  Mr.  Le  Baron  had  named  his  place  when  he  had  settled 
there.  No  premonitions  of  what  awaited  me  came  to  me.  Elise  received  me 
cordially,  but  there  was  something  in  her  manner  that  chilled  me.  Drawing  her 
aside,  I  was  not  long  in  coming  to  the  point.  "Elise  I  cannot  place  fan  in 
the  position  our  parents  planned  for  our  future,  but  I  believe  that  altered 
fortune  will  never  prevent  happiness,  and  I  am  anxious  to  know  how  soon  you 
will  be  ready  to  take  your  place  as  the  head  of  my  house,  and  the  object  of  my 
dearest  affections."  Elise  remained  silent,  though  her  adorable  face  became 
suffused  with  blu,shes.  She  looked  at  me  with  beseeching  eyes,  then  faltered: 
"Have  you  not  heard?" 


108  RIGHT  OK  WKONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAK  AND  FAITH. 

"Heard  what?" 

"That  I  enter  the  convent  next  week.  I  had  intended  to  tell  you  some  time 
ago,  but  I  hesitated,  for  Victor,  I  could  not  bear  to  give  you  pain." 

Then  I  exclaimed  brutally: 

"Some  hopeless  love  has  intervened  between  us  and  you  seek  forgetful- 
ness  in  cloistered  walls," 

"Those  words  were  unworthy  of  Victor  LeviUier,"  she  said,  reproachfully. 

* '  Forgive  me,  Elise, ' '  I  cried,  ' '  call  it  madness,  jealousy,  anything  you  wish, 
but  tell  me  you  never  meant  what  you  have  said." 

"Even  to  please  you,  Victor  I  cannot  unsay  it.  No  one  but  God,  who 
has  called  me,  unworthy  as  I  am,  to  His  service,  stands  between  us.  "Why  is  it, ' ' 
she  exclaimed,  more  bitterly  than  I  had  ever  heard  her  speak,  "that  when  a 
woman,  listening  to  the  call  of  the  Master,  offers  up  her  life,  her  hopes,  her 
deepest  affection  on  his  altar,  the  world  is  ready  to  find  some  ulterior  motive 
for  what  it  deems  a  sacrifice.  I  searched  my  heart  long  and  faithfully  to  dis- 
cover if  my  friendship  for  you,  Victor,  had  anything  in  common  with  the  love 
a  woman  should  give  her  husband,  but  found  nothing  but  what  my  brother  could 
^laim;  but  my  heart  was  my  Creator's  and  it  was  sinning  against  you,  as  well 
as  myself,  to  contemplate  marriage.  Tell  me,  Victor  that  your  prayers  and 
best  wishes  will  follow  me  where  God  calls.  Do  not  let  me  carry  with  me  the 
thought  of  your  unhappiness  and  I  promise  to  pray  the  God  of  all  consolation 
that  another  will  take  the  place  I  could  not  fill.  Promise  me,  my  dear  friend 
and  brother." 

At  that  moment  she  was  so  radiant  with  the  fervor  of  her  renunciation  of 
me  and  of  the  world,  that  I  hastily  bent  the  knee  and  seizing  her  haiul,  I  im- 
printed, before  she  could  withdraw  it,  the  old,  formal  French  kiss  of  adieu,  and 

before  I  had  fairly  recovered     she  had  left  me. I  have   never   seen  her 

since,  but  her  prayers  must  have  found  favor  with  her  Lord,  for  gradually  I 
have  learned  to  think  of  her  as  the  bride  of  heaven.  For  months  I  felt  that 
HO  other  woman  could  ever  find  favor  in  my  sight,  but,  Claire,  your  sweet  face 
has  replaced  the  image  of  Elise,  and  now,  having  told  you  all,  I  crave  an 
nnswer. ' ' 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  109 

Claire  looked  up  into  the  earnest  face  bent  above  her,  for,  in  his  anxiety, 
Victor  had  risen  and  stood  before  her. 

"Victor,  I  must  say,  like  yourself,  I  have  a  confession  to  make,  but  mine 
in  no  way  parallels  yours.     But,  perhaps,  Rita  has  already  forestalled  me '' 

"I  fail  to  follow  you,  Claire.    What  can  Rita  have  to  do  in  this  matter?" 

"Simply  that  I  -nas,  as  you  to  Elise   betrothed  to  James  Hay  ward." 

Victor  gave  a  start  of  surprise. 

"Did  Rita  know  of  this?"  he  asked  anxiously 

"No,  indeed,  or  probably  you  and  I  had  never  met.  But  listen,  you  were 
fond  of  Elise;  I  dreaded  the  very  presence  of  James.  I  knew  so  well  the  small- 
ness  of  his  soul,  his  utter  lack  of  honor,  his  cruelty  and  mercilessness. ' ' 

Victor's  face  clouded  visibly. 

"Surely  my  sister  cannot  be  happy  with  such  a  man,  if  you  are  correct  in 
your  analysis  of  his  character " 

Claire  shook  her  head. 

"Rita  has  been  as  silent  to  me  as  she  has  evidently  been  to  you,  but 
knowing  her  as  we  both  do,  the  inference  is  natural.  Every  instinct  of  her 
noble  nature  must  revolt  against  his  every  characteristic." 

"But,  Claire,"  exclaimed  Victor,  "what  has  that  to  do  with  this  great  love 
of  mine,  and  my  desire  to  make  you  my  wife?" 

Claire  smiled. 

"Had  you  asked  me  that  question  three  months  ago,  I  would  have  shrunk 
in  horror  from  such  a  possibility.  I  thought  that  the  physical  resemblance  must 
extend  to  the  mental  and  moral  make  up  of  the  man.  You,  cannot  forget  with 
what  aloofness  I  treated  you,  as  far  as  I  dared,  during  the  time  you  remained 
under  Auntie's  roof.  My  instincts  and  better  judgment  told  me  that  your 
natures  were  entirely  different,  but  I  perversely  insisted  that  you  were  only 
a  more  polished  dissembler. 

"Forgive  me,  Victor.  These  last  few  months  have  convinced  me  of  my  in- 
justice, and  my  heart  is  prepared  to  accept  and  return  the  love  you  offer  me. 
But,  Victor,  am  I  all  that  you  could  wish  me?    Is  there  nothing  that  you  could 


110  EIGHT  OR  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 

desire  changed  or  altered?"  and  Claire  lifted  her  truthful,  blue  eyes  to  the 
brown  ones  that  were  full  of  the  love  light.     Victor  hesitated. 

' '  I  could  wish,  Claire,  that  we  could  be  united  in  faith  as  in  heart  and 
hand,  but  conversion  must  be  spontaneous,  the  result  of  a  firm  conviction,  by 
the  grace  of  God,  and  not  from  expediency  or  the  result  of  hysteria.  If  you 
can  put  your  hand  in  mine  and  say,  'Victor,  I  believe  as  you  believe,'  I  will 
rejoice,  but  till  then  I  must  abide  my  soul  in  prayerful  hope  of  that  happj'  day." 

"Then  rejoice  and  be  glad  for  last  week,  during  my  visit  to  the  city,  a 
visit,  by  the  way,  which  I  know'  seemed  at  the  time  to  have  no  'raison  d'etre' 
as  you  Frenchmen  say,  Father  Turgis  received  me  into  the  bosom  of  the  Cath- 
olic Church." 

"And  you  never  told  me  of  it!"  Victor  said,  reproachfully. 

"Might  it  not  have  seemed  a  bid  for  what  joi\  have  offered  so  freely?  Good, 
old  Father  Turgis  bade  me  say,  if  the  time  came  as  he  felt  sure  it  must  eome, 
that  his  blessing  would  fall  unstinted  on  our  union  and  that  he  felt  sure  that 
as  he  had  so  often  noticed,  as  a  true  convert,  I  would  be  a  better  Catholic  than 
even  you,  who  were  to  the  manor  born." 

Mrs.  Levillier  suddenly   awoke. 

"Why,  Victor,  it  is  so  late,  and  Claire  must  be  up  early  to  catch  her  train." 

Victor  took  Claire  by  the  hand,  and  leading  her  to  his  mother,  said  smiling 
happily:    . 

"Mamma,  while  you  slept,  you  have  entertained  an  angel  unawares,  and. 
heaven  has  sent  you  a  daughter  who,  since  last  week,  is  also  a  good  daughter  of 
Mother  Church." 

Mrs.  Levillier  opened  her  arms,  and  Claire  hid  her  blushing  face. 

"Welcome,  a  thousand  welcomes,  my  dear  child,  to  the  heart  and  home  of 
an  old  woman  who  will  not  love  you  less  because  you  have  accepted  her  son  and 
her  faith." 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG  J  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Claire  arrived  the  morning  after  her  aunt's  funeral,  a  long  delay  on  the 
road  having  made  the  journey  useless,  so  far  as  allowing  her  to  see  her  aunt 
once  more,  or  even  to  pressing  a  kiss  on  the  face  of  the  dead. 

Claire  and  Rita  clasped  each  other  in  a  loving,  sympathetic  embrace. 

"How  is  Mamma?     How  has  she  borne  my  absence   "  asked  Rita. 

"Your  mother  is  quite  well,  and  she  and  Victor  bid  you  send  me  back  as 
soon  as  you  can  spare  me."  The  significance  of  the  phrase  escaped  Rita,  filled 
as  she  was  with  her  own  thoughts. 

"Rita,  what  did  Abigail  mean,  when  she  opened  the  door,  by  saying,  'Oh, 
Miss  Claire,  why  did  you  not  come  in  time  to  save  this  house  from  those  popish 
abominations?'  " 

Nothing  in  Claire's  manner  led  Rita  to  read  her  opinion  on  the  subject. 

''Wlould  it  grieve  you  much,  Claire,  to  know  that  Auntie  accepted  the 
Catholic  faith?" 

"If  it  does  not  grieve,  it  certainly  astonishes  me.  Pray,  how  did  you  bring- 
that  about?" 

"I  am  sorry  to  say  I  can  claim  no  share  in  it,  except  that  she  was  generous 
enough  to  say  that  my  forbearance  with  James  and  my  explanations  of  such 
points  of  our  doctrines  as  seemed  particularly  objectionable  to  her,  first  aroused 
her  curiosity,  then  her  interest,  and  her  readings  of  such  books  as  I  mentioned, 
or  read,  led  her,  from  step  to  step,  until  conversion  was  the  rational  solution. 
Oh,  Claire,  I  think  if  you  had  been  present  and  witnessed  her  beautiful  resigna- 
tion and  holy  death,  you  could  not  yourself  but  yield  to  her  example;  I  am  sure 
Mamma  and  Victor  would  rejoice  with  me." 

"Oh,  you  little  sophist!"  Claire  cried  joyously,"  that  last  argument  might 
have  convinced  me  had  not  Father  Turgis  given  me  some  better  reasons." 

"Claire,  do  you  mean " 


112  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

"Yes,  dear,  I  mean  that  God,  through  you,  has  led  me  to  the  one  true  fold, 
and  that  with  his  help,  I  will  not  stray  again  from  it." 
Rita  pressed  the  young  girl  to  her  heart. 

' '  Oh,  Claire,  why  is  it  that  I  have  failed  to  do  for  James  what  Auntie  and 
you  so  kindly  attribute  to  my  efforts?" 

''James  is  a  moral  pervert,  dear,  and  only  time  and  the  grace  of  God  ca» 
•often  his  heart.  But  there,  dear,  don't  look  so  hurt;  perhaps,  after  all,  I 
am  too  harsh  and  should  remember  that  we  are  bidden  to  judge  not,  lest  we  our- 
selves fall  under  the  judgment,"  and  Claire  laid  her  hand  caressingly  on 
Rita's  knee.  Rita  gave  a  start,  for  on  one  of  the  fingers  of  that  hand,  was  the 
magnificent  signet  ring  of  the  Levilliers. 

"Claire,  what  does  this  mean?"  she  asked  as  she  laid  her  hand  on  the  ring. 

"Can  you  not  guess?  Victor  told  me  that  no  Levillier  ever  parts  with 
that  ring  except  to  the  woman  who  he  expects  to  make  his  wife." 

Rita  clasped  her  hands  in  ecstacy. 

"Oh,  Claire,  my  cup  of  joy  is  full!  you,  a  convert,  and  e'er  long  to  be 
Victor's  wife!  How  Auntie  must  rejoice  if  she  can  see  this  hour;  I  wonder 
what  James  will  say!" 

"Something  synical  and  uncomplimentary,  as  usual.     I  dread  to  tell  him." 

"Well,  then,  allow  me  to  break  the  news  to  him.  I  shed  James'  cynicisms 
like  a  dvick  does  water,  and  I  am  firmly  persuaded,  judging  from  personal  ex- 
perience of  my  callousness  to  James'  taunts,  that  the  boys  are  right  about  eels 
getting  used  to  being  skinned." 

True  to  promise,  Rita  told  James  Hayward  the  news  of  Claire's  conversio* 
and  approaching  marriage  to  Victor.  He  received  it  with  a  contemptuous 
'Pish,'  but  the  next  day  on  meeting  Claire,  he  stopped  abniptly  before  her,  and 
said  tauntingly: 

"So  I  understand  another  of  the  HajTvards  has  sold  her  Puritan  birth- 
right for  a  mess  of  potage.    What  was  the  price?" 

Claire  drew  herself  up  proudly. 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OP  WAR  AND  FAITH.  113 

"Remember,  James,  I  am  not  a  Hay  ward,  consequently,  not  amenable  to  a 
bribe." 

James  Hayward  looked  the  astonishment  he  felt.  He  would  as  soon  have 
expected  a  bolt  from  a  cloudless  sky  as  a  retort  from  the  girl  over  whom  he 
had  so  long  tyrannized. 

"Ha!  ha!"  he  laughed,  long  and  loud,  "  'Pon  honor,  Claire,  that's  not  bad; 
has  Rita  been  coaching  you?" 

"No,  Rita  tried  to  save  me  from  your  characteristic  remarks.  She  failed, 
more's  the  pity,  but  even  a  worm  turns  at  last,  James." 

"Had  you  done  some  of  that  'turning'  long  ago,  I  probably  would  have 
admired  you  more." 

Claire  laughed. 

"For  small  favors,  make  us  duly  thankful!  I  rejoice  that  the  'worm'  didn't 
turn  until  it  was  too  late  to  reap  sueh.  great  reward." 

Her  cousin  laughed  again. 

"There,  Claire,  a  truce,  a  truce!  'Pon  my  word,  as  Rita  says:  'I^e  jeu 
n'en  vaut  pas  la  chandelle — Practice  makes  perfect,  and  if  joii  continue,  your 
wit  will  rival  your  beauty,  a  thing  I've  held  a  little  insipid,  but  nevertheless 
great,"  and  turning,  much  to  her  delight,  he  left  the  room. 

That  evening  Abigail  came  to  the  room  in  which  Rita  and  Claire  were 
sewing.  Her  face  wore  a  portentous  scowl,  and  without  preliminary,  she  ad- 
dressed herself  to  Claire.    "Miss  Claire,  is  what  that  black  woman  says,  true?" 

Mam  Tel  had  evidently  taken  the  first  opportunity  to  inform  her  arch 
enemy  of  the  changes,  present  and  future,  in  Claire. 

"What  has  Mam  Tel  told  you?"  Claire  asked  quietly. 

"That  you  had  gone  over  to  the  'Woman  in  'Scarlet,'  and  are  to  marry 
Mrs.  Hayward 's  brother." 

"If,  by  the  woman  in  scarlet,  you  mean  the  Church  of  Rome,  Mam  Tel  told 
you  the  truth  in  both  instances,"  Claire  said  quietly. 

"Wioe,  woe  to  me  that  I  live  to  see  the  day  when  the  last  of  those  I 
have  loved  and  served  should  shamelessly  admit  that  the  enemy  of  man   has 


114  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

triamphed  over  her!  Misa  Claire,  I  never  would  have  bided  here  had  I  not 
felt  that  you  might  need  me  to  wrestle  with  the  spirit  of  evil  that  has 
bewitched  this  house  since  that  black  woman  first  entered  these  doors.  But  you 
have  not  sought  my  help — you  have  been  weakly  conquered.  If  I  stay  here,  who 
knows  but  I  myself,  may  fall  under  her  spells,  so  I  must  fly  from  temptation, 
as  fled  Joseph  of  old,  so  in  one  hour  I  •will  leave  this  house  that  is  accursed. 
Good-bye,  Miss  Claire.  If  you  should  come  to  your  senses,  let  me  know  and  1 
will  stand  by  you  until  the  devil  is  exorcised — Good-bye,  Mrs.  Hayward." 

Claire  and  Rita  knew  it  would  be  useless  to  argue  with  the  ignorant,  irate, 
though  earnest  creature,  and  merely  said,  "Good-bye,  Abigail." 

She  was  as  good  as  her  word,  and  within  a  few  hours,  all  her  belongings 
had  been  packed  and  carted  away  and  they  knew  her  no  more. 

Victor  had  accompanied  Claire  as  far  as  the  city  to  formulate  plans  for 
their  marriage  as  he  declared  he  dared  not  trust  her  returning  health  to  the 
treacherous  climate  that  had  so  nearly  proved  fatal  to  her.  Besides,  prepara- 
tions for  the  wedding  were  not  to  be  elaborate,  Claire  taking  her  place  as 
daughter  and  ■wife,  where  she  had  been  a  guest.  It  had  been  settled  that  on 
Claire's  return,  Mrs.  Levillier  and  Victor  should  meet  her  in  New  Orleans,  and 
Father  Turgis  would  bless  the  union  and  she  would  return  to  Esperance  a  bride. 
Of  all  things,  Rita  would  have  desired  to  be  present  on  the  auspicious  occasion, 
but  when  she  timidly  broached  the  subject  to  James,  he  curtly  told  her  he 
would  not  afford  money  for  such  a  foolish  journey,  and  Rita  had,  perforce,  to 
content  herself  with  this  decision,  although  Claire  offered  to  defray  those 
expenses,  but  to  this  James  remarked  that  he  saw  no  necessity  to  throw  away 
good  money  to  see  a  man  made  miserable,  and  that  what  was  borrowed  had  to 
be  returned. 

In  the  settlement  of  her  business  Claire  took  no  one  but  her  father's  old 
lawyer  into  her  confidence,  but  when  a  few  weeks  later,  the  happy  pair  took 
the  train  for  Esperance  Claire  laid  an  envelope  into  Victor's  hands. 

"'Here  Victor,  dear,"  she  said,  "these  may  help  you  to  build  up  Esperance 
as   you  have   dreamed." 


EIGHT  OR  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH,  115 

"And  what  are  these?"  Victor  asked  a  little  anxiously. 

"Open  and  see,"  Claire  said  in  a  half -shy,  half -eager  manner. 

Victor  did  as  he  was  bid  and  drew  out  twenty  United  States  bonds.  Claire 
watched  his  expressive  face,  as  he  remained  silent,  and  a  succession  of  different 
eaotions  chased  each  other  and,  as  seemed  to  her  sensitive  nature,  annoyance 
predominated. 

* '  Did  you  really  suppose,  you  foolish  fellow,  that  my  face  was  my  fortune  ? ' ' 
she  said.    Then  asked  anxiously. 

"Victor,  dear,  you  are  not  angry  with  me?" 

Victor  laughed  at  the  whimsical  idea. 

"Does  one  usually  turn  surly  towards  the  giver  of  such  gifts?  But,  Claire, 
why  did  you  not  tell  me?" 

"To  enjoy  your  surprise.    Was  it  not  worth  the  deception?" 

"Perhaps,  dear,  if  it  gave  you  pleasure;  but,  dearest,  remember,  there  are 
to  be  no  secrets  between  us.  Even  in  trivial  things  our  lives  must  henceforth 
be  as  an  open  book  to  each  other."  "Oh,  my  darling,"  he  whispered,  as  he 
saw  the  tears  gathering  in  her  blue  eyes,  "what  a  cad  I  am  to  lecture  you  be- 
cause you  chose  to  give  me  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  your  own  way!  Cer- 
tainly, it  is  a  perfect  case,  as  we  say  in  French,  of  finding  the  bride  too  lovely. 
Is  it  not  ridiculous?"  and  he  laughed  boyishly  as  he  surreptitiously  gave  her 
hand  a  loving  pressure 

"Bayou  des  Allemands! "  called  the  conductor,  and  Claire  was,  indeed,  at 
home. 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND   PAlTIf. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

It  was  not  yet  Rita's  usual  bed  hour,  and  Mam  Tel  was  pottering  round 
the  room  while  Rita  was  busy  sewing  the  dainty  caps  and  gowns  on  which 
she  now  depended  for  actual  necessities.  She  had  a  Frenchwoman's  dexterity 
for  needle  work,  and  Mam  Tel  had  little  difficulty  in  disposing  of  the  result. 

Suddenly  both  were  startled  by  the  opening  of  the  front  door,  and  Bita, 
quickly  followed  by  Mam  Tel,  ran  into  the  hall,  to  find  Captain  Hayward 
there. 

"Oh!  it's  you!"  she  exclaimed,  her  fears  only  half  allayed  by  this  un- 
expected appearance   and  his  scowling  face. 

"You  don't  seem  particularly  glad  to  see  your  liege  lord  and  master!"' 
he  replied  sneeringly.  "Perhaps^  you  expected  another  guest.  I'm  sorry  to 
disappoint  you." 

Without  a  word  of  comment  Rita  turned,  and  entering  the  room,  resumed 
her  sewing. 

"On  my  soul,  Mrs.  Hayward,  your  welcome  would  be  quite  delightful  on  a 
warm  summer  night,  it  is  so  refreshingly  cool,  but  when  the  glass  is  tumbling 
down  every  second  to  the  vicinity  of  zero,  it  would  be  more  to  my  liking  to 
have  9.  little  warmth  in  your  greetings." 

"Perhaps  if  you  gave  me  such  surprises  a  little  oftener  I  might  appreciate 
them  more  and  warm  up  to  the  occasion.  Why  do  you  not  try  the  experi- 
ment?" 

"Because  I  find  it  more  pleasant  elsewhere,"  he  replied,  brutally.  "A 
nice  home  to  come  to,  ain't  it,  where  a  man  comes  in  cold  and  miserable  and 
his  wife  and  her  nigger  don't  give  themselves  the  trouble  to  take  his  hat 
and  coat  or  give 'him  a  chair  by  the  fire.  And  such  a  fire!  Here,  Mam  Tel. 
put  some  coal  in  that  grate!     When  do  yon  expect  to  start  the  furnacesf 

"Probably  as  soon  as  you  furnish  a  supply  of  coal  for  the  purpose,  or, 
more  correctly,  when  I  have  earned  the  money  to  pay  for  it." 


EIGHT  OE  WEQNG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  117 

He  laughed  cynically.  "That's  rather  a  case  of  'wait,  horSe,  till  grass 
grows,'  isn't  it?  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  haven't  enough  to  pay  omnibua 
hire  or  buy  a  glass  of  beer.  Luck  was  dead  against  me,  to-night,  or,  as  you 
probably  are  well  aware,  I  would  not  be  here." 

Eita  rose  without  comment,  folded  the  finished  garment,  and  laid  it  away. 

"By  the  way,  Eita,  I  never  was  so  impressed  with  the  peculiar  beauties  of 
slavery  as  I  was  to-night." 

Eita  looked  at  him  uneomprehendingly. 

"You  are  not  often  so  stupid.     Don't  you  catch  on?" 

"I  can't  say  I  do.  It  must  have  been  a  very  personal  argument  to  appeal 
to  you  on  that  subject. ' ' 

"Why  don't  you  add  'or  any  other,'  for  I  know  those  are  your  senti- 
ments," he  said,  naggingly.  "After  all,  I  guess  you  are  right,  as  usual,  my 
dear  Eita.  As  I  told  you,  I  had  beastly  luck,  and  just  when  I  had  lost  every 
cent  and  had  made  up  my  mind  to  get  out  of  the  game,  nolens  volens,  I  get 
such  a  hand  as  I've  seldom  held  before.  Had  I  been  able  to  play  it  for  all 
it  was  worth  it  would  have  set  me  on  my  feet  for  many  a  day  to  come,  but 
there  I  was,  with  only  a  few  beggarly  cents,  and  no  way  of  getting  more, 
when  suddenly  it  came  to  me  what  a  splendid  thing  it  would  be  if  I  could 
convert  Mam  Tel  into  a  gambling  asset  and  throw  her  into  the  pot." 

With  a  cry  of  horror,  Eita  impulsively  threw  herself  in  front  of  Mam 
Tel.  Captain  Hay  ward  laughed  uproariously.  "Why,  Eita  Hay  ward,  if  all 
things  fail,  I  would  advise  you  to  try  the  tragic  stage.  'Pon  my  word,  you 
threw  Eistori  in  the  prison  scene  with  Simon  and  the  Dauphin,  quite  into  the 
shade!  But  don't  worry,  dear,  Old  Abe  has  settled,  with  the  help  of  sucii 
dolts  and  idiots  as  myself,  all  such  lordly  Southern  pastimes.  But,  all  the 
same,  I  can't  help  thinking  its'  a  great  shame!" 

The  hot  blood  of  her  angry  resentment  and  righteous  indignation  suf- 
fused Eita's  face  as  she  resumed  her  occupation,  and  words  of  the  contempt 
and  scorn  she  felt  trembled  on  her  lips,  but  with  a  powerful  effort  she  sup- 
pressed them  and  sat  silently  praying  for  help  and  patience. 


118  BIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

Her  effort  at  self-control  was  not  lost  on  the  Captain,  and  her  silence 
irritated  him.  "Rita,"  he  said,  abruptly,  "why  don't  you  speak  out,  confound 
it!  I  hate  sullen  people!  You  used  to  be  quick  enough  with  your  sharp  tongue 
when  I  first  met  you,  but  now,  you're  as  dumb  as  an  oyster!  i  don't  mind 
admitting  to  you  that  I  always  admired  a  woman  who  had  a  little  spice  of 
the  devil  in  her  make-up,  even  if  sometimes  I  suffered  in  consequence.  It's 
a  long  time,  however,  since  you've  been  either  piquant  or  amusing.  It '8  an 
actual  fact,  I  miss  your  saucy  tongue  quite  as  much  as  your  light  banter  and 
merry  laugh,  to  both  of  which  I  am  now  an  utter  stranger." 

"As  I  am  to  hope  and  happiness.  Hypocrisy  was,  at  least,  not  one  of  the 
kaleidoscopic  virtues  that  appealed  to  you  so  strongly." 

"Good!     I'm  glad  I  am  able  to  provoke  a  flash  of  the  old  apirit! " 

"Probably  on  the  same  principle  that  you  used  to  hold  down  one  end  ef 
the  worm  to  see  the  balance  'wriggle.'  " 

'So,  my  beloved  cousin  has  been  telling  tales  out  of  school  and  giving 
you  samples  of  my  boyish  pranks!  She  always  was  a  prig,  too  goody,  goody 
even  for  a  Sunday  School  book.  I  certainly  owe  you  one  for  saving  me  from 
her." 

"Claire  is  an  angel  and  far  too  good  for  you." 

' '  What  a  comment  on  yourself! ' ' 

"Unfortunately,  it  is  not  always  the  best  woman  who  is  mated  to  her 
own  kind.  In  fact,  it  looks  as  if  Nature  tries  to  equalize  things  so  that  in 
course  of  time  this  world  should  not  be  equally  divided  into  the  good  and 
the  bad.  God's  ways  are  certainly  unexplainable  to  man's  narrow  conception. 
But,  after  all,  I  suppose  it  is  the  eternal  fitness  of  things,  the  great  law  of 
compensation  and  equalization." 

"Bravo!     A  moment  ago  a  tragic  queen,  and  now  a  profound  philsopher! 
Your  versatility  is  truly  amazing!     You  are  one  of  those  women 
"That  age  cannot  wither  nor  custom  stale 
Her  infinite  variety." 

"I  rejoice  that  thy  servant  has  found  favor  in  thy  sight!"  Rita  bowed 
Jow  as  she  spoke. 


BIGHT  OE  WKONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  119 

"Oh,  come,  Rita,  don't  sneer.  It's  not  becoming.  Honest,  now,  I  tell 
you  on  the  square,  I  never  have  seen  the  woman  I'd  swap  for  you.  I  know 
actions  speak  louder  than  words,  but  I  don't  believe  I'd  have  been  a  bad  sort 
of  husband  if  you  hadn't  cut  off  my  means  of  making  a  decent  living  by  the 
price  you  exacted  of  me." 

"It  seems  that,  in  this  world,  we  are  punished  for  our  mistakes  more  se- 
verely than  for  our  sins,  and  repentance  is  unavailing,"  Rita  commented,  bit- 
terly. 

**0h,  you  admit  then  that  it  was  a  mistake?  After  all,  you  haven't  had 
so  much  to  complain  of.  Of  course,  money  has  not  been  over  plentiful,  but 
you  might  be  worse  off.  It  isn't  every  woman  who  has  a  fine  house  to  live 
in,  and  a  nigger  to  fetch  and  carry  at  her  beck  and  call." 

"Neither  of  which  I  owe  to  you!"  The  words  were  spoken  impulsively 
and  repented  of  as  quickly.  "You  are  right,  James,  I  have  much  for  which 
to  be  thankful — a  roof  over  my  head,  and  a  faithful  friend,  who  is  not  only 
willing  to  share  my  poverty,  but  helps  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door." 

"Poverty  is  damned  inconvenient,  but  it  is  no  disgrace." 

"No,  certainly,  there  is  nothing  of  which  to  be  ashamed  in  an  honetit 
poverty  that  is  met  openly  and  courageously  by  labor,  even  the  most  lowly. 
Our  women  in  the  South  have  fought,  and  are  still  fighting  that  kind  of  pov- 
erty. But  who  can  depict  the  horrors  of  that  genteel  poverty  when  hampered 
by  circumstances,  one  is  unable  to  work  and  too  proud  to  beg,  there  is  nothing 
left  but  to  endure." 

"Something  after  the  fashion  of  the  Spartan  youth  who  allowed  the  fox 
tc  claw  out  his  vitals." 

Rita  failed  to  see  the  Sneer  intended  or  did  not  care  to  notice  it,  and 
answered  seriously.  "No  indeed,  for  that  was  to  conceal  a  theft,  whereas  in 
the  other  case,  too  honest  to  steal,  the  sacrifice  is  made  to  family  pride  and 
traditions,  to  a  natural  repugnance  to  accept  the  dole  of  the  charitably  in- 
clined, and  not  unfrequently,  to  conceal  the  shortcomings  of  some  male  mem- 
ber of  the  family,  who  fails  to  rise  to  the  responsibilities  of  his  position." 

"You  and  I,  for  example." 


120  EIGHT  OK   WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

Rita  remained  silent,  too  truthful  to  deny  the  analogy,  yet  unwilling  to 
stoop  to  a  personal   discussion   of  her  grievances. 

"My  remark  was  not  intended  to  have  a  personal  application,"  she  said, 
after  a  moment 's  hesitation. 

"It  hit  hard,  all  the  same.  Isn't  it  Scott  who  says, 
'Oh  many  a  shaft  at  random  sent 
Finds  mark  the  archer  never  meant.'  " 

It  was  a  peculiarity  of  Captain  Hayward  that,  in  his  intercourse  with  his 
wife,  just  at  the  moment  when  she  had  given  him  good  cause  to  complain  of  her 
sharp  retorts  and  unkind  allusions,  he  seemed  to  be  most  ready  to  admit  his 
fault,  and  though  she  had  often  seen  those  moments  of  self-accusation  fol- 
lowed quickly  by  violent  outbursts  of  surly  or  vicious  temper,  she  was  always 
ready  to  hail  this  apparent  repentance  as  a  harbinger  of  better  things,  bo 
surely  did  Hope,  trampled  in  the  ashes  of  her  despair,  find  fresh  inspiration 
in  this  glimmer  of  regeneration. 

"Come,  Rita,  confess  I'm  not  half  as  bad  as  I  might  be,  and  am  the  vic- 
tim of  circumstances,  and  my  own  desire  to  provide  more  liberally  for  you. 
The  few  paltry  cases  that  come  my  way  from  those  who  don't  know  or  don't 
care  for  my  apostacy  from  Church  and  State  are  barely  enough  to  keep  me  as 
a  gentleman,  and  if  I  have  recourse  to  the  gambling  table,  it  is  only  in  the 
hope  of  retrieving  my  fortune  and  placing  you  in  the  position  you  were  born  to 
occupy. ' ' 

"Oh!  James,  if  you  could  only  be  persuaded  that  you  are  only  throwing 
good  money  after  bad,  and  that  I  would  rather  live  on  a  crust,  honestly 
earned,  than  on  delicacies  to  which  I  feel  I  have  no  right ■" 

"Do  you  mean  that  when  I  win  it  is  by  dishonest  methods?"  he  asked, 
angrily. 

"You  know  I  could  not  admit  that,  even  to  myself.  I  only  put  myself  in 
the  place  of  the  loser,  and  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  look  upon  the  money 
as  mine,  when  I  consider  the  sorrow  and  privatins  its  loss  may  entail  on  those 
who  depend  upon  him  for  their  bread." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!     It's  fortunate,   however,  for  your  too  tender  con- 


BIGHT  OK  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  121 

science,  that  it  is  not  overburdened  by  the  amount  of  my  winnings  that  fall  to 
your  share."  He  laughed  sardonically — "I  can't,"  he  resumed,  "  for  the  life 
of  me,  see  why,  if  your  qualms  of  conscience  are  so  great,  you  persist  in  living 
in  this  house  when  you  could  derive  a  revenue  from  it." 

"You  forget,  James,  my  solemn  promise  to  your  mother,  on  her  death 
bed,  that  as  long  as  I  remained  your  wife,  I  would  not  leave  this  home,  that 
had  sheltered  five  generations  of  Haywards. " 

'•'Fool  promises  are  better  in  the  breaking  than  in  the  keeping.  At  least, 
I'd  live  in  a  house,  and  not  in  a  comer  of  it." 

"What  would  you  suggest?" 

"Why,  roomers,  boarders,  or  something  of  the  sort." 

"You,  yourself,  furnished  me  with  the  best  reasons  against  that,"  Eita 
said,  with  considerable  effort  at  self-control,  when  she  recalled  the  scene  that 
followed  when  she  had  timidly  suggested  that  the  house  should  be  utilized. 

"I  fail  to  remember." 

"Perhaps  I  can  refresh  your  memory.  You  said  your  mother  could  never 
have  contemplated,  when  she  left  me  the  house  and  contents,  that  it  would  be 
turned  into  a  third-rate  eating  bouse,  that  it  was  beneath  your  dignity  and  would 
reflect  seriously  on  you  in  your  business  to  have  your  wife  stoop  to  such  a 
plebian  occupation,  to  say  nothing  of  the  chivalrous  accusation  that  I  wanted  to 
keep  boarders  'for  company.'  The  one  argument  that  outweighed  every  other 
was  the  fact  that  a  boarding  house  was  not  the  place  where  the  sixth  gener- 
ation of  the  Haywards  ought  to  be  bom.  It  was  then  that  Mam  Tel  took  the 
burden  of  my  support  upon  herself  and  became  a  praline  vender,  a  French 
laundress,  and  presumably  the  maker  of  these  French  confections  for  which 
Fhe  finds  a  ready  sale.  Between  us,  we  have  managed  to  spare  your  dignity, 
and  provide  for  our  few  wants.  Had  my  babe  lived,  the  effort  might  have  been 
less  successful.     Am  I  correct?" 

"Your  memory  is  most  accurate,  my  dear.  Perhaps  you  will  be  equally 
accurate  and  specific  in  giving  me  the  reasons  why,  having  become  bo  inde- 
pendent and  self-supporting,  you   allow  such  a  worthless  fellow  as  myself  to 


122  RIGHT  OB  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

Rita  remained  silent,  too  truthful  to  deny  the  analogy,  yet  unwilling  to 
natural  vagaries,  his,  only  by  your  generosity  and  forbearance." 

"Do  not  speak  so  bitterly,  James.  You  know  it  was  really  her  great  love 
and  desire  to  secure  inalienably  the  home  of  your  ancestors  for  you  and  yonr 
clild,  that  prompted  your  mother's  will," 

"Did  she  not  say  as  long  as  you  remained  my  wife?  Then  why  don't 
you  cut  the  Gordian  knot  by  restoring  to  me  my  rightful  inheritance  and  free- 
ing yourself  from  a  tie  that  I  am  sure  has  long  since  become  unbearable;  in 
other  words,  why  don't  you  ask  for  a  divorce?" 

Rita  plainly  showed  the  emotion  the  words  just  spoken  produced.  In  spite 
of  the  fact  that  she  knew  only  too  well,  by  the  use  Captain  Hayward  had 
made  of  the  residue  of  his  mother's  estate,  the  latter 's  wisdom  in  rescuing 
the  home  for  her  son's  wife  and  child.  After  the  latter 's  death,  a  few  hours 
after  birth,  Rita's  sensitive  conscience  never  ceased  to  prompt  her  to  a  com- 
plete renunciation  of  Mrs.  Hayward 's  legacy,  and  she  was  only  restrained  froa 
this  act  of  quixotic  justice  by  her  solemn  promise  to  the  dying  woman,  whom 
fihe  had  learned  to  love  and  venerate,  and  who  by  that  very  act  had  proved 
her  love  and  trust  for  the  girl  that,  at  first,  she  had  so  mistrusted.  Nor  was 
the  question  of  restitution  untinged  by  selfish  consideration,  and  for  a  momeat 
her  soul  was  flooded  by  the  hope  of  a  surcease  of  the  material  cares  and  love- 
less existence  which  was  all  life  held  for  her. 

The  struggle  between  what  she  believed  was  right  and  what  every  fibre  of 
her  being  longed  to  make  right,  was  long  and  bitter,  and  the  silence  had  be- 
come oppressive  when  Captain  Hayward  cried  out: 

"Well,  what's  the  matter?  Can't  you  give  a  plain  answer  to  a  plain 
question,  or  does  your  confessor  forbid  you  to  give  up  your  ill-gotten  goods?" 

"James,"  Rita  began  in  a  low  voice,  apparently  ignoring  his  questions  and 
his  taunt,  let  me  give  you  a  little  inside  history,  which,  for  reasons  of  mj 
own,  I  so  far  have  kept  from  you.  You  may  remember  that  two  years  ago 
Claire  and  I  went  back  to  my  mother's  home.  ^I  never  intended  to  return. 
Every  instinct  of  my  nature  revolted  from  the  man  I  had  found  you  to  be,  a 


BIGHT  OE  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  123 

gambler,  a  blasphemer,  a  man  whose  one  idea  of  duty  began  and  ended  in  the 
gratification  of  his  own  desires." 

"My  dear,"  Captain  Hay  ward  interrupted,  "I  proved  that  by  marrying 
you. ' ' 

"I  cry  out  'mea  culpa,  mea  culpa,  mea  maxima  culpa,'  and  in  sack-cloth 
and  ashes  haA'^e  I  repented  the  foolish  exaltation  of  a  girl,  a  child  in  wordly 
wisdom,  full  of  patriotism  and  love  for  the  God  of  her  people.  You  have,  at 
least,  a  better  right  than  Father  Adam  to  say,  'She  tempted  me,  and  I  did 
eat.'  But  to  come  to  what  I  want  to  say.  As  soon  as  I  got  home,  before 
saying  a  word  to  mother  or  brother,  I  went  straight  to  Father  Turgis,  the  man 
to  whom  you  owe  your  life,  and  I  laid  bare  to  him  my  disappointments,  my 
anguish,  my  shortcomings  as  well  as  yours,  extenuating  naught  nor  setting  down 
aught  in  malice." 

Captain  Hay  ward  made   a   mock-heroic   bow.     "Awfully   obliged." 

"Then  I  came  to  the  point  and  told  him  what  had  brought  me  home,  i 
told  him  that  I  had  wrecked  both  of  our  lives  by  my  folly,  and  I  purposed 
to  undo  my  work  by  never  returning  to  your  roof.  He  listened  to  me  pa- 
tiontly,  questioned  me  closely,  and  soothing  me  by  gentle  words,  said: 

"  'My  child,  I  am  truly  sorry  at  what  you  tell  me,  but  your  plan  offers  no 
solution.  You  know  that  marriage  is  a  sacrament  and  is  indissoluble,  so  long 
as  both  shall  live.  The  Church  acknowledges  no  divorce,  and  only  premits  of 
separation  for  the  gravest  of  reasons.  Incompatability  of  temper  ana  even  a 
precarious  support,  do  not  constitute  sufficient  cause,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
it  takes  two  to  make  a  quarrel,  and  patience  and  forbearance  can  often  over- 
come a  fractious  and  overbearing  spirit,  and  I  fear  you  have  not  yet  practiced 
either  in  your  intercourse  with  your  husband.  Meet  anger  with  gentleness, 
oppose  irreligion  with  greater  reverence  for  holy  things,  teach  him  by  example, 
if  he  will  not  listen,  to  precept,  that  a  Catholic,  not  merely  in  name,  but  in 
very  truth  follows  in  the  path  of  duty,  however  thorny  it  may  be,  and  believe 
me,  my  daughter,  your  husband  will  one  day  allow  himself  to  be  won  over  to  a 
better  appreciation  of  your  efforts." 

"What  a  pity  the   old  fellow  has  proved   such   a  false  prophet,   or  have 


124  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

you  failed  to  profit  by  his  good  advice?  You  at  least  followed  his  injunction 
to  return  to  your  Dares  and  Penates.  I  guess  the  old  man  knows  enough  of 
human  nature  to  appreciate  that  there  are  worse  men  than  your  humble 
servant.  I  owe  him  one,  I  don't  think;  for  had  you  remained  in  New  Orleans, 
I  could  have  posed  as  a  deserted  husband,  and  my  mother  would  then  not  have 
apotheosized  you  into  a  saint  and  martyr.  What  did  your  mother  and  brother 
have  to  say?" 

"I  have  no  means  of  knowing  what  they  might  have  thought  since  I  took 
good  care,  after  promising  Father  Turgis  to  do  as  he  bid  me,  not  to  let  them 
suspect  the  truth  for  it  would  have  added  to  the  burdens  which  loss  of  prop- 
erty, failure  of  crops,  and  the  political  horrors  of  reconstruction  entailed  on 
chem.    So  you  see,  I  cannot  give  you  a  divorce." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Caudle,  have  you  finished?" 

"Certainly."  Rita's  surprise  at  her  husband's  forbearance  grew  at  every 
word  he  uttered,  but  she  could  not  see  whither  his  action  tended. 

"I  suppose  you  will  admit  that  I've  been  as  patient  as  a  lamb  under  your 
«andid  recriminations.  Well,  let's  change  the  subject.  How  much  money  have 
you  and  Mam  Tel  in  the  house?" 

The  question,  so  suddenly  revealing  the  secret  of  Captain  Hayward's 
feigned  submission,  was  as  a  blow  to  the  unsuspecting  woman.  Recovering  from 
the  first  shock,  she  did  not  pretend  to  misunderstand  the  abyss  of  infamy  to 
which  hia  words  pointed,  and  replied: 

"James,  surely  you  have  not  sunk  so  low  as  to  rob  the  woman  who 
through  her  devotion  to  me  has  not  only  fed  and  clothed  me,  but  has  provided 
you  not  only  with  food  but 'with  delicacies  for  which  you  failed  to  earn  the 
price." 

"Don't  try  my  patience  too  far.  I've  had  enough  of  your  heroics,  and 
since  you  refuse  to  let  me  come  into  my  own  by  the  only  road  that  is  open 
to  me,  I  mean  to  get  it  any  way  I  can,  or  I'll  put  into  effect  the  other  pro- 
vision of  my  mother's  will  by  which  you  become  sole  heiress  of  my  patrimony, 
at  my  death,"  and  Captain  Hay  ward  drew  from  his  pocket  a  revolver.  It  was 
not  the  first  time  he  had  used  this  threat  to  enforce  some  demand,  and  Rita 


EIGHT  OR  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  125 

had  become  somewhat  skeptical  as  to  his  intention,  but  nevertheless  she  never 
quite  conquered  the  fear  that  the  unexpected  might  happen,  and  she  dreaded 
the  years  of  remorse  that,  innocent  as  she  might  be,  would  be  hers  if  he  car- 
ried out  his  threat. 

Mam  Tel  had  remained  a  silent  but  intensely  interested  listener. 

"Mo  Piti, "  she  said  in  her  soft  patois,  "lesse'  li  prende  1 'argent  la.  Ca 
\o  mieu  passe'  laisse'  li  montre'  comme  li  capon  et  couri  droite  en  enfer. " 
(Let  him  have  the  money,  my  little  one.  Better  that  than  to  let  him  show 
what  a  coward  he  is,  and  go  straight  to  perdition.")  And  not  waiting  for  a 
reply,  Mam  Tel  left  the  room,  and  returning  shortly,  placed  a  purse  in  Captain 
Hayward's  hands. 

"With  a  laugh,  he  pocketed  the  weapon,  and  took  the  purse. 

"Is  this  all?"  he  questioned,  as  he  counted  out  its  meagre  contents. 

"A  pitiful  sum,  truly,  to  represent  the  savings  of  three  months  and  the 
honor  of  a  man!     Bah!      'Le  jeu  n'en  vaut  pas  la  chandelle!" 

Captain  Hayward  laughed  sardonically. 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  week  later,  Rita  woke  one  night  sure  that  she  had  heard  the  knocker 
gently  struck.  She  listened,  and  again  a  blow,  louder  than  the  first,  resounded 
through  the  house.  Rita  awoke  Mam  Tel.  Both  women  were  puzzled  to  think 
wJio  could,  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  seek  an  entrance  to  the  house.  Hastily 
thrusting  her  feet  into  her  slippers,  and  wrapping  her  robe  about  her,  Bita, 
with  her  usual  disregard,  where  danger  threatened,  went  hastily  to  the  door, 
and  would  have  opened  it,  but  Mam  Tel  interposed. 

"Let  me  see  who's  there,"  she  said,  and  pushing  Rita  aside,  she  asked: 
•   "Who's  there,  and  what  you  want?" 

"It  is  I,  Major  Kendrick,"  a  familiar  voice  replied.  Rita  clasped  her 
hands.  "He  is  the  bearer  of  evil  news,"  she  cried,  "Open  the  door,  Mam  Tel," 
and  in  obedience.  Mam  Tel  threw  open  the  door.    Rita  sprang  forward. 

"Oh,  Major,  you  are  the  messenger  of  evil  tidings,  I  feel  sure!  James 

Mayor  Kendrick  took  her  hands  in  his,  and  looked  pityingly  at  the  trembling 
woman. 

"Mrs.  Hay  ward,  your  instincts  have  spoken  truly.  Captain  Hayward  has 
been  wounded,  and  they  are  bringing  him  home.  I  came  ahead  of  the  bearers 
to  prepare  you." 

"For  the  worse?"  Rita  asked  anxiously. 

Major  Kendrick  hesitated. 

"I  fear  that  Captain  Hayward  is  seriously  hurt." 

"How  is  it  that  you  knew  of  it?"  she  asked,  half  suspiciously. 

"I  was  returning  from  the  Symphony  Concert  when  I  suddenly  heard  a 
shot,  saw  the  excitement  centering  around  a  certain  house,  and  carried  by  the 
crowd  heard  something  said  of  Captain  Hayward.  Whatever  the  outcome,  I 
felt  sure  your  husband  needed  a  friend.  I  pushed  my  way  up  the  stairs  and 
found  him  stretched  on  a  table,  evidently  in  nuu'h  pain.     At  sight  of  me,  his 


RIGHT  OK  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  12T 

face  brightened.     'Kendrick,'  he  cried,  'the  doctor  here  says  I'm  pretty  badly 
hurt.     I  can't  have  Rita  brought  here,  but  I  must  see  her.     Let  me  be  taken 

home  as  fast  as  I  can.'  " 

^*Ah,  but  here  they  are,"  he  interrupted,  as  he  heard  the  noise  of  wheels, 
and  the  tramp  of  feet  in  the  street;  and  opening  the  door,  he  hurried  to  the 
assistance  of  those  who  were  already  lifting  Captain  Hayward  out  of  the 
vehicle. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Mam  Tel  had  prepared  the  bed,  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
wounded  man  was  laid  on  it.  Rita,  without  a  word,  threw  herself  on  her  knees 
beside  him. 

"Well,  little  girl,"  he  said,  as  with  an  effort  he  laid  his  hand  on  hei? 
bowed  head,  "things  have  straightened  themselves  out  without  your  help, 
haven't  theyf" 

"Oh,  James,  don't  say  that!     You  are  not  going  to  die!" 
"Well,  the  doctor  here  seems  to  think  the  chances  look  very  much  that 
way,  don't  you,  Doctor?"  appealing  to  a  man  who  had  accompanied  him,  and 
who  stood  now  irresolute  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.    The  doctor  bowed  his  head  in 
acquiescence. 

"In  fact,  Madame,  the  wonder  is  that  Captain  Hayward  has  survived  so 
long. ' ' 

"So  you  see,  little  girl,  the  time  is  short  in  which  to  say  what  I  want  to 
say. " 

General  Kcndrick  made  a  motion  to  leave  the  room. 

"Stay  Kendrick,  Doctor,  I  wish  the  whole  world  coujtd  hear  what  I  have 
to  say.  Rita,  little  girl,  I  have  been  far  from  all  that  you  had  a  right  to 
expect,  but  if  it  will  be  any  comfort  to  you,  little  woman,  deep  down  in  my 
heart,  despite  words  and  actions,  I  have  held  you  in  deep  love  and.  reverence, 
as  the  dearest,  purest,  most  sorely  tried  little  woman,  and  having  said  that 
much,  I  want  you,  if  you  can,  to  say,  'James,  I  forgive.'  " 

Sobbing  convulsively,  Rita  uttered  the  words  he  lounged  to  hear,  then  mak- 
ing an  effort  at  self-control,  she  murmured,  "But,  James,  what  am  I  to  talk  of 


128  RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

forgiveness — there  is  One  you  have  offended  more  than  you  could  possibly  offend 
me.  Turn  to  Himi  who  said  to  the  repentant  thief  on  the  cross:  'This  day 
shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise.'    Let  me  send  for  Father  Conway — ■ — " 

"Bah!  as  I  have  lived,  so  must  I  die.  General  Kendrick,  I  leave  her  in 
your  care.  Rita,  dear,  you  have  forgiven,  but  there  is  much  to  forgive  of 
which  you  know  nothing,  and  when  the  day  comes  when  you  know  all,  I  implore 
that  for  thef  .sake  of  the  poor  mother  of  such  a  son,  you  will  say  as  you  but 
said,  'James,  I  forgive,'  " 

"Oh,  James,  there  is  yet  time!  Turn  to  Him  now,  in  your  hour  of  need, 
with  the  same  contrition  with  which  you  have  begged  forgiveness  of  my  un- 
worthy self  and  He  will  hear " 

"I  came  into  and  am  leaving  this  world  without  any  volition  of  my  own. 
Let  Him  who  sent  me  here  take  care  of  the  future  of  which  I  know  nothing. ' ' 

Rita  laid  her  hard  impulsively  on  his  lips  and  was  drawn  down  to  the 
dying  man's  armsi.  "Bye-bye,  little  girl,"  he  whispered,  and  in  an  instant 
she  was  covered  with  the  crimson  life  blood  that  flowed  from  his  lipe,  and 
the  lifeless  arms  fell  from  about  her. 

The  scene  was  too  much  for  her  over-wrought  nerves,  and  with  a  cry  of 
agony  and  horror,  Rita  fell,  unconscious. 

Lifting  her  in  his  strong  arms,  Marc  Kendrick  motioned  to  Mam  Tel  to 
lead  the  way  to  the  adjoining  room,  and  together  they  removed  all  traces  of 
the  terrible  scene,  and  this  done,  applied  the  restorativea  Rita's  eyes  at  last 
opened,  and  for  a  time  she  seemed  to  think  it  a  dreadful  dream,  but  as  her 
eyes  rested  on  the  sympatetic  faces  bent  over  her,  she  knew  that  it  was  a 
terrible  reality.     She  tried  to  speak,  bust  words  failed. 

"Poor  little  woman,"  said  General  Kendrick  gently.  "Do  not  distress 
3'^ourself,  all  shall  be  done  as  you  would  wish.  Imagine,  if  you  can,  that  Victor 
is  here,  and  act  as  if  I  was  your  brother! " 

At  the  mention  of  Victor,  Rita  realized  her  loneliness  for  the  first  tinie. 


RIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  129 

and  closed  her  eyes  in  a  vain  effort  to  shut  out  the  horrible  truth,  and  tears 
fell  from  beneath  the  closed  lids. 


Mare  Kendrick  kept  his  word.  Every  detail  of  the  obsequies  were  simple 
yet  correct  as  became  the  last  of  the  Haywards, 

Once  Rita  sent  for  him,  and  in  a  shame-faced  way,  said: 

"Major  Kendrick,  it  has  just  come  to  me  that  I  am  penniless,  but  this 
house  belongs  to  me;  it  must  answer  for  all  that  is  done  for  Mrs.  Hayward's 
son." 

"Did  I  not  forbid  you  to  worry  about  those  matters?  Captain  Hay  ward 
trusted  me,  why  cannot  you?" 

' '  Oh,  I  do  trust  you  with  every  faculty  of  my  heart  and  mind,  but  you  know 
me  of  old;  I  could  not  rest  until  you  knew  the  facta." 

"Impulsive  as  ever,  I  see,"  Mare  Kendrick  said,  amused  at  this  proof  that 
Mrs.  Hayward  differed  little  from  the  Rita  Levillier  he  had  known. 

Rita  had  expected  to  follow  Captain  Hayward's  body  to  the  grave,  but 
at  the  last  moment,  the  effort  was  too  much,  and  Mare  Kendrick  and  Mam  Tel 
insisted  that  she  should  remain  at  home.  The  latter,  with  the  love  of  pomp  and 
display  natural  to  her  race,  would  not  have  been  loath  to  figure  in  the  pageant, 
but  her  love  for  Rita  overcame  even  this  propensity,  and  to  all  Rita's  urging, 
she  had  only  one  reply:  "Mo  vieux  maitresB  pas  ici,  vous  frere  pas  ici,  mo 
pas  capable  laissez  vous  seul.  Et  apes  tout  m©  te  'jamais  I'aime'  li,  et  mo  pas 
capaWe  fais  Macairie.  (My  old  mistress  is  not  here;  your  brother  is  not  here; 
so  I  can't  leave  you  alone.  Besides  I  never  loved  him,  so  I  can't  make  a 
monkey  of  myself  at  his  fuineral.) 

The  bluntness  of  the  speech  shocked  Rita,  but  its  honesty  appealed  to  her. 
Mare  Kendrick  called  the  next  day  to  find  out  what  were  Rita's  plans. 

"To  get  home  as  fast  as  steam  can  carry  me,  as  soon  as  I  hear  from 

Victor ^I  have  written   to   himi   supplementing  your  telegram,   and  I  must 

wait," 

"Are  you  treating  me  fair?    When  we  parted  a  few  years  ago,  I  told  you 


130  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

that  no  Levillier  need  want  a  friend  as  long  as  Marc  Kendrick  was  alive,  I 
tried  to  prove  it  to  Victor,  yet  you,  a  helpless  woman,  refuse  or  ignore  the  help 

I  can  give  you If  you  are  not  willing  to  accept  my  help  in  part  payment 

to  you  and  youirs  of  my  debt,  at  least,  accept  it  as)  a  loan,  and  if  to-morr©w 

you  desire  to  leave  Boston,  the  means  are  at  your  command. But  see,  you  have 

made  what  I  had  to  say  more  diflScult  for  me.  I  came  to  urge  you  to  remain 
until  there  could  be  a  settlement  of  your  husband's  estate." 

"I  never  suspected  there  was  swh.  a  thing  as  his  estate." 

"You  are  correct — personally,  he  went  through  eveiything  he  could  lay 
his  hands  on,  yet  you  are  not  a  poor  woman." 

Rita  looked  the  astonishment  she  felt. 

"Why,  until  Mam  Tel  took  up  the  burden  of  my  support,  I  knew  hunger 
and  cold,"  she  cried,  impulsively.  Then,  ashamed  of  having  betrayed  so  mucli 
of  her  life,  she  hid  her  crimson  face. 

"I  understood  you  to  say  that  this  house  was  yours  and  that  Mrs.  Hayward 
exacted  a  promise  that  as  long  as  you  remained  James'  wife,  you  should  remain 
in  it.  Did  it  never  strike  you  that  it  was  a  strange  promise  to  exact,  from  a 
woman  w'ho  had  no  means  of  keeping  up  such  an  establishment?  Do  you  think 
that  that  wasi  consonant  with  the  shrewd  business  woman  Mrs.  Hayward,  un- 
doubtedly, was?" 

"I  did  wonder  at  times  how  Auntie  expected  me  to  live,  but  I  only  thought 
that  she  never  realized  what  a  spendthrift  James  really  was,  he  grew  so 
rapidly  worse  after  her  death." 

"The  lawyer  who  drew  up  the  will,  probated,  it  and  as  all  the  beneficiaries 
under  it,  viz:  Captain  Hayward  and  yourself,  were  of  full  age,  you  were  put  in 
possession.    Did  you  never  sign  any  papers?" 

**Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Atkinson  came  here  one  day  with  James,  and  I  signed  some 
papers  which  Mr.  Atkinson  wanted  to  read  to  me,  but  I  cut  him  short,  saying 
that  whatever  Auntie  had  done  was  well  and  good." 

"A  wise  little  business  woman!  Tou  might  have  sdgned  your  own  death 
warrant. ' ' 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  131 

"Oh,  no,  ibecause  you  see  I  -was  bound  by  my  promise  to  Auntie  never  to 
part  with  this  house,  so  as  I  did  not  know  that  she  had  left  me  anything  else, 
I  would  have  refused  to  sign  any  paper  after  that.  Cau't  yoiu  see,  Major  Kend- 
rick,  that  I  felt  all  the  time  that  I  was  robbing  James  of  what  was  his  by 
right,  and  yet  I  could  not  displease  Auntie  by  refusing  her  gift  which,  she  said, 
was  for  my  children " 

"Mrs.  Hayward  provided  amply  for  you,"  Mjarc  Kendrick  replied,  "but 
her  son,  although  unable  to  dispose  of  the  property,  used  the  revenues  as  he  did 
his  own  sihare." 

Rita  understood  the  delicacy  of  this  man,  who,  knowing  her  husband's 
shame,  still  alluded  to  it  so  gently.  Then  all  at  once  came  the  remembrance 
of  James  Hayward's  words,  "'There  is  much  to  forgive  of  which  you  know 
nothing,  and  when  the  day  comesi,  as  come  it  must,  when  you  know  all,  I  im- 
plore you  for  the  sake  of  the  mother  of  eu*h  a  son  to  say  as  you  but  said: 
'James,  I  forgive,'  and  with  a  heart  full  of  that  true  charity  that  is  as  an 
emanation  of  the  Godhead,  she  bent  her  head,  and  repeated,  'James,  I  forgive,' 
while  she  added  a  prayer  that  by  the  light  of  His  knowledge  of  the  motives  and 
inexplicable  dwarfing  of  the  human  heart,  He  might  find  som,e  plea  of  mercy 
for  the  erring  soul. 

Mare  Kendrick  saw  her  emotion,  and  with  perfect  undersitanding  of  the 
working  of  the  generous  soul,  kept  a  reverential  silence. 

Rita  looked  up  tearfully. 

"Poor  James!"  she  said,  as  if  she  felt  that  by  telepathy  Marc  Kendrick 
had  followed  her  thoug'hts.  "How  strange  that  he  could  doubt  my  forgiveness 
of  financial  wrongs  when  there  had  been,  to  me,  so  much  more  to  forgive  than 
was  involved  in  a  question  of  dollars  and  cents.    Poor  James!" 

Mare  Kendrick  rose,  for  he  was)  losing  his  self-control,  and  he  was  sorely 
tem^pted  to  take  the  sorrowful  woman  in  his  arms,  as  he  would  a  little  child, 
and  comfort  her,  as  her  brother,  Victor,  might  do,  but  he  dared  not  shock  her 
in  these  first  days  of  her  widowhood,  and  feared  she  might  misinterpret  his 
action. 


132  EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 

"Have  you  decided  as  to  what  you  wUl  do?  I  repeat,  if  you  desire  to 
leave  immediately,  the  money  is  at  your  command,  yours,  not  mine,  remember; 
but  I  think  it  might  be  well  for  you  to  remain  so  as  to  be  put  in  possession 
of  the  facts,  and  to  select  an  agent  who  couid  attend  to  matters  here,  and  you 
can  leave  this  inhospitable  land  and  return  to  your  own  people  and  forget  the 
dreary  days  of  your  sojourn  here." 

"Can  I  ever  forget?  Do  you  think  I  can  ever  shut  out  the  scene  we  wit- 
nessed the  other  night?  No,  as  long  as  life  lasts,  the  remembrance  will  turn 
joy  and  jest  into  a  mockery,  and  laughter  will  be  a  stranger  to  my  lips." 

"No,  no,  you  are  young,  thank  God!  and  time  brings  healing.  Our  sorrows, 
like  our  joys,  are  not  perennial,  and  you  will  forget." 

''Perhaps,  but  for  the  present  the  road  is  dreary  and  long,  and  the  shadows 
lengthen  out  before  me " 

Again  Mare  Kendrick  felt  that  the  interview  was  dangerous  for  his  peace 
of  mind,  and  he  said  briskly: 

"Tou  haven't  decided  yet.    What  is  it  to  be,  go  or  stay,  for  the  present?" 

"Why,  I  thought  you  had  decided  I  was  to  stay  until  you  gave  me  permis- 
sion to  go.  I  am  in  your  hands  to  command.  You  see,  I  have  learned  to  dis- 
trust my  own  judgment."  Then  suddenly.  "Oh,  but  I  am  selfish  as  usual.  I 
forget  that  you  do  not  live  here,  your  business " 

"Don't,"  he  said  smilingly,  "I  am  the  best  judge  of  that;  my  time  is  my 
own,  and  cannot  be  better  employed  than  in  tbe  service  of  Mrs.  Levillier's 
child." 

So  it  was  arranged,  and  Eita  was  astonished  to  find  how  many  difficulties 
arose  over  matters  that  seemed  so  simple  to  her,  and  she  once  smilingly  told 
Marc  Eendrick  that  she  had  often  heard  of  the  law's  delays,  but  had  never 
expected  to  experience  it.  Her  guileness  inexperience  amused  the  man  who  guiltily 
had  to  admit  to  himself  that  in  this  case,  at  least,  the  law  was  the  least  guilty 
in  the  case.  Mam  Tel  was  not  blind,  and  at  the  end  of  a  month  she  asked 
suddenly: 

"Quan  nous  otos  ape  conri  ehez  neus?"     (Wlien  are  we  going  home?)     And 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  13a 

probing  her  guilty  Gonscience,  Eita  was  aghast  to  find  that  the  month  had  not 
dragged  its  slow  length  along,  and  that  Mare  Kendriek  had  done  much  to- 
lighten  her  burden. 

That  day  she  determined  to  hasten  her  departure. 


EIGHT  OB  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"Mrs.  Hayward,"  Marc  Kendrick  said,  as  he  laid  a  package  on  the  table, 
"here  is  something  you  are  to  take  home,  but  not  to  open  until  you  get 
there." 

**0h,  Maj — Ah — General  Kendrick,"  Rita  hesitated  over  the  two  titles, 
"I  can  never  get  used  to  the  new  name,"  she  laughingly  added. 

"Oh,  never  mind  the  title,  you  could  drop  both  if  you  are  so  minded." 

"No,  no,  old  things  are  the  best  after  all,  so  I  expect  it  wiU  have  to  be 
Major  Kendrick  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  But,  honestly,  do  you  not  fear  my 
curiosity  may  lead  me  to  repeat  the  story  of  Bluebeard's  vrife,  and  peep  into 
the  forbidden  chamber?"  she  asked  archly. 

"Not  if  I  have  your  word  for  it.  I  would  trust  yon  with  my  life,  and  my 
honor,  which  is  dearer  still,  much  less  with  a  bauble, ' '  he  said  seriously,  *  *  which, 
when  you  open  it  may  prove  disappointing." 

"I  don't  anticipate  any  such  disappointment.  My  trunks  are  closed  and 
checked  by  the  expressman  you  were  thoughtful  enough  to  send  here  to-day,  so 
the  very  first  thing  I  shall  do  on  reaching  Esperance,  will  be  to  open  it." 

Rita  fully  meant  what  she  said,  but  the  joy  of  seeing  once  more  her  mother, 
Victor  and  Claire,  put  all  other  things  out  of  her  head,  and  it  was  only  the  next 
day,  when  Mam  Tel  was  straightening  out  Rita's  old  room  that  she  brought 
the  package  and  laid  it  in  Rita's  lap. 

"A  package  Major  Kendrick  gave  me,  not  to  be  opened  until  I  was  home," 
she  replied  to  her  mother's  questioning  look,  and  Rita  rapidly  untied  the  strings. 
As  the  contents  were  revealed,  Rita  gave  a  cry  of  mingled  pain  and  joy,  while 
Mrs.  Levillier  exclaimed  in  astonishment:  "The  rosary  of  the  Duchess  D'An- 
genleme!  How  did  it  happen  to  be  in  Major  Kendrick 's  possession!  Did  you 
lose  it?" 

Rita  seemed  lost  to  her  surroundings,  and  was  sobbing  convulsively  as  she 
held  the  rosary  to  her  heart.    Mrs.  Levillier  looked  to  Mam  Tel  in  hopes  of  an 


EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  135 

elucidation  of  the  scene,  but  the  latter  kept  a  discreet  silence,  until  Rita,  hav- 
ing recovered  from  her  first  emotions,  threw  herself  at  her  mother's  feet,  and 
«obbed  out  the  heart  history  of  those  years  to  which  her  mother  was  a  stranger. 
And  as  the  tale  of  misery  and  want  and  woe  was  unfolded,  Mrs.  Levillier's 
tears  flowed  fast  as  she  occasionally  murmured:  "My  poor  little  girl.  How  you 
must  have  suffered,  my  child!" 

Then  finally  Rita  paused. 

"But  the  beads,  child,  what  of  them?" 

"James  always  seemed  to  resent  Major  Kendrick's  gifts,  until  at  last  I 
put  these  away  and  locked  the  silver  chest  in  one  of  the  upstairs  rooms.  Months 
afterwards,  when  I.  came  one  day  to  look  at  my  beads,  they  were  gone,  and 
the  silver  had  likewise  disappeared.  I  asked  no  questions,  for  as  James  was 
openly  pawning  or  selling  many  of  the  heirlooms  and  furniture  of  the  home  that 
was  really  mine,  I  knew  too  well  what  had  become  of  them.  Oh  I  Mamma, 
Mamma,  had  I  only  heeded  your  advice,  what  misery  I  had  been  spared!  Had 
it  not  been  for  Mam  Tel,  I  think  my  mind  would  have  given  way! "  And  Rita 
reached  up  and  affectionately  took  the  old  woman's  hand  in  hers.  Mam  Tel, 
who  had  been  crying  quietly  said: 

"Mo  Piti,  mo  merci  bon  Dieu  li  te'  fe'  moi  couri  avec  vous,  pas  que  voua 
te'  UD  enfant,  vous  te'  pas  conne  isa  vous  te'  o-ule'  fe'  mais  mo  vieux  maitress 
h.  pesent  besoin  moin  et  mo  pas  pe'  jamais  couri  avec  vous  encore,  mo  dis  vous." 
(Mo  Piti,  I  thank  God  he  sent  me  with  you,  because  you  were  only  a  silly 
little  child  who  didn't  know  what  she  was  doing,  but  now,  my  old  mistress 
needs  me,  and  I  never  will  go  with  you  again,  I  tell  you! ") 

This  harangue  of  Mam  Tel's  came  as  a  fitting  climax  to  the  overwrought 
nerves  of  both  mother  and  daughter,  and  both  laughed. 

"What  is  this?"  Mrs.  Levillier  asked  as  she  lifted  a  paper  from  the  floor. 
Rita  looked  at  it. 

"An  express  receipt  for  the  silver,"  she  said  quietly. 

Claire  and  Victor  were  more  prepared  for  Rita's  heart  history.  As  that 
evening  she  repeated,  as  briefly  as  she  could,  what  she  had  already  told  her 
mother,  Olaire  leaned  over  and  kissed  her: 


136  EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 

"Even  to  your  dark  clouds,  is  there  not  a  silver  lining,  dear  Bitaf  Have 
you  suffered  in  vain?" 

For  a  moment  Eita  remained  silent,  then  her  face  was  illumined  with  the 
estatie  joy  of  the  remembrance,  and  she  said: 

"No,  my  dear  sister,  not  when  I  recall  Auntie  and  yourself.  I  can  but  say, 
'I  thank  Thee,  Oh!  my  Creator,  that  I  was  the  humble  instrument  which  led 
these  to  Thee " 

Eita's  acknowledgement  of  the  double  given  gifts  had  scarcely  started  on 
its  way,  when  one  evening  Victor  came  home,  accompanied  by  Marc  Kendrick. 
His  presence  he  explained  by  the  fact  that  he  had  heard  that  "La  Nouvelle 
France"  was  to  be  sold,  and  that  he  had  come  to  look  at  it. 

"Victor,"  he  asked  laughingly,  "do  you  think  you  coiild  make  a  planter 
of  me?"  Victor  laughed. 

"Perhaps  your  army  experience  might  be  a  drawback,  but  I  can  try  and 
persuade  the  darkies  to  overlook  the  fact  that  you  are  a  Northern  man." 

"Why,  what  has  that  to  do  with  it?" 

"Why  thosei  forty  acres  and  the  mule  have  proved  such  a  disappointment 
that  they  begin  to  look  askance  at  everything  northern,  except  politics,  and 
have  found  out  that  a  Northern  man  expects  a  full  day's  work  for  a  day's  pay, 
and  a  military  man,  regularity  and  implicit  obedience,  two  very  distasteful 
things  to  the  shiftless,  irresponsible  beings  that  compose  the  vast  majority,  and 
gradually  the  old  traditions  of  slave  days  are  cropping  out  and  many  recall 
the  well-known  axiom  that  the  hardest  overseers  were  negroes  and  Northern 
men — the  one  clothed  with  a  little  brief  authority,  the  other  accustomed  to  white 
labor  in  cold  climates.  However,  if  you  really  want  La  Nouvelle  France,  I 
engage  to  coach  you  and  make  of  you  a  pretty  decent  sort  of  a  planter — ac- 
cording to  negro  standards,"  he   added  jokingly. 

The  preliminaries  to  the  transfer  did  not  take  long,  and  the  sale  of  La 
Nouvelle  France,  rechristened  "The  Mamselle,"  much  to  the  mystification  of 
the  Levilliers,  accomplished.  Eita  might  probably  have  enlightened  them  as 
to  the  change  had  she  so  chosen,  for  once  when  alone  with  Marc  Kendrick,  the 
latter  had  said: 


f  RIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH.  137 

"I  notice  that  all  the  servants  call  you  "Mamselle  Eita,"  how  is  that!" 

"One  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  race.  To  them  the  children  never  grow  up 
and  are  Master  and  Mamselle,  often  until  age  begins  to  set  its  signet  on  their 
brows,  as  long  as  the  mother  or  father  of  the  family  lives. ' ' 

"Win  you  allow  another  humble  servitor  to  use  the  name?  You  said  truly 
the  old  ways  are  the  best.    Is  it  to  be  'Mamselle  Eita'  between  us?" 

"What  an  odd  conceit,"  laughed  Eita,  "but  if  it  pleases  you,  that  is  all 
sufficient. ' ' 

Once  in  possession,  Mare  Kendriek  soon  proved  his  ability  as  a  good  busi- 
ness man,  if  not  a  good  planter.  The  careless  management  that  had  ruined 
La  Nouvelle  France  gave  place  in  the  Mamselle  to  thorough  reorganization,  nor 
did  he  fail  to  call  on  Victor  for  advice  and  counsel.  In  fact,  Mamselle  was 
often,  during  Marc's  enforced  absences,  under  Victor's  immediate  control.  After 
one  of  these  absences  more  prolonged  than  usual,  the  former  said: 

"Victor,  have  you  noticed  that  many  of  the  large  plantations  are  being 
farmed  out  on  shares,  or  sold  outright  to  small  farmers?  That  looks  like  the 
abandonment  of  sugar  culture,  does  it  not?  For  these  people  cannot  hope  to 
each  erect  mills  for  their  few  acres." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  replied  Victor,  "that  a  Central  Sugar  House  is  the  so- 
lution of  the  problem." 

"Why  not  erect  one?" 

Victor  looked  amused. 

"It  has  taken  me  nearly  six  years  to  pay  for  my  little  sugar  house.  Let 
me  have  a  breathing  spell  before  rushing  into  the  new  and  untried."     . 

"Shall  I  furnish  the  capital  and  you  tlie  experience?" 

Victor  hesitated.  He  knew  probably  better  than  Mare  the  cost  of  such  an 
establishment,  yet  he  likewise  foresaw  the  probable  profits  to  be  derived  there- 
from, and  he  felt  loath  to  accept  the  generous  offer.  Claire,  who  was  seated 
near,  saw  and  understood  the  hesitation. 

"Victor,"  she  said,  "you  have  always  claimed  that  you  could  not  use  my 
money  here  because  the  property  belonged  to  mamma  and  Eita  as  well  as  to 
yourself.    Now  is  a  chance  to  do  more  than  draw  the  interest."    "Major  Ken^ 


138  EIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

drick,"  she  added,  turning  to  him,  "let  me  invest  my  little  with  you.  Can  I, 
Yictorf"  Victor  smiled. 

"That's  just  like  a  woman,"  he  said  teasingly,  "act,  then  ask  permission 
afterwards." 

Then  seeing  that  Marc  expected  an  explanation,  he  said: 

"Want  of  knowledge  prevented  me  from  securing  to  Claire  her  dotal 
rights  prenuptially.  I  have  remedied  that  defect  by  act,  but  as  a  further  se- 
curity, I  have  insisted  upon  her  keeping  the  original  bonds  in  her  own  name, 
content  to  let  her  draw  the  interest  as  she  cho«e.  I  would  prefer  it  should  so 
remain,  but  if  you  will  give  her  a  small  share  in  your  enterprise,  which  in  no 
way  will  disturb  her  marital  rights,  you  will  have  some  guarantee  that  at  the  end 
of  a  few  years  you'll  not  have  the  experience  and  I  the  money." 

"I  need  no  guarantee  of  your  ability  or  uprightness,  Victor,  and  I  would 
willingly  undertake  the  erection  of  the  sugar  house  you  contemplate  without 
help  from  Mrs.  Claire,  but  I  know  how  anxioua  she  is  to  prove  her  trust  in 
you,  so  she  and  I  will  put  our  dollars  against  your  knowledge  and  management, 
and  I  cannot  but  feel  that  we  have  the  best  of  it  for  how  soon  is  capital 
swallowed  up  in  the  maelstrom  of  mismanagement,  lack  of  judgment  or  posi- 
tive vis  inertia."     Marc  Kendrick  paused. 

"But  what  is  labor  without  capital!"  asked  Victor. 

"Something  of  a  cripple  without  his  crutches,  I  admit.  It  is  reciprocity 
between  labor  and  capital  that  is  the  very  foundation  of  prosperity.  This 
absolute  dependence  of  labor  on  capital  and  capital  on  labor  that  seems  to  be 
completely  lost  sight  of  in  strikes,  shut-outs,  etc.  Rather  than  grant  a  few 
cents  advance  on  wages,  capital  will  allow  its  mines,  its  mills,  its  industries  and 
its  factories  to  be  idle,  to  deteriorate  at  the  cost  of  millions,  while  labor  will 
starve,  freeze  and  suffer  for  those  few  cents,  which  if  won  at  last,  will  scarcely 
make  up  in  years  the  loss  entailed  by  months  of  idleness,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  heavy  per  cent  levied  on  other  organizations  to  keep  a  few  unscrupulous, 
self-constituted  leaders  in  plenty,  leaders  who  do  not  hesitate  to  commit  the 
blackest  crimes  in  the  name  of  labor,  thereby  alienating  the  sympathy  of  the 


BIGHT  OR  WRONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH.  13^ 

outside  public,  a  sympathy  that  has  so  many  times  made  or  marred  the  success 
of  labor  or  caipita.1  in  these  conflicts.  Vox  Populi  is  not  always  Vox  Dei,  but 
might  never  made  right.  Sooner  or  later,  the  pendulum  will  swing  in  the  right  di- 
rection and  arbitration  will  say  to  capital,  'Thus  far  shalt  thou  go  in  thy  care«r 
of  grinding  cupidity,'  and  to  labor,  'To  thee  is  given  the  right  to  labor  how 
and  when  thou  pleaseth,  but  remember,  every  other  human  being  shares  that 
right  with  thee  and  thou  must  accord  it  to  them.'  ". 

Marc  Kendrick  stopped  suddenly,  laughed,  and  looked  quizzically  at  Victor 
and  Claire. 

"There,"  he  continued,  "this  lecture  has  had  no  advance  agent,  and  the 
lecturer  as  no  right  to  inflict,  on  so  small  an  audience,  that  which  a  crowd 
might  have  borne  with  less  patience." 

"The  remedy?"  asked  Victor. 

"Education,  not  book-learning  or  the  little  smattering  acquired  in  the 
schoolhouse,  but  education  of  mind  and  heart  in  its  broader  sense.  Together 
or  as  individuals,  teach  the  ignorant  the  difference  between  freedom  and 
license,  and  that,  in  asserting  their  rights  they  must  not  trample  on  the  rights 
of  others.  Oh!  for  the  day  when  man's  inhumanity  to  man  will  be  a  thing  of 
the  past! " 

"You  sigh  for  the  millenium,"  laughed  Victor. 

"I  suppose  that's  it,"  replied  Marc  Kendrick.  "But  we  have  wandered 
far  from  our  Central  Sugar  House  and  lost  ourselves  in  Eutopia.  Make  your 
plans,  Victor,  approximate  the  cost  and  we'll  make  a  good  start  towards  rescu- 
ing the  surgar  industry  from  the  hands  of  the  land  barons  and  placing  it  within 
the  reach  of  the  small  farmer." 

As  the  big  sugar  hoxise  arose  on  the  division  line  between  Esperance  and 
Mamselle  plantations  it  was  greeted  with  many  divergent  comments,  but  it 
proved  in  the  long  run  its  usefulness,  fulfilling  with  the  others  that  soon  fol- 
lowed. Marc  Kendrick 's  prophesy  and  bringing  prosperity  to  many  who  until 
then  had  been  compelled  to  depend  on  other  crops  for  a  precarious  living. 


EIGHT  OE  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAE  AND  FAITH. 


CHAPTEE  XXI. 

"Major  Kendrick, "  said  Eita  one  evening,  "I  should  like  to  consult  you 
on  a  subject  of  vital  importance.  I  suppose  you  may  think  that  Mamma  or 
Victor  might  give  me  their  counsel,  but  that  is  the  very  thing  both  refuse  to 
do,  so,  perforce,  I  come  to  you,  sure  that  you  will  not  allow  your  personal 
friendship  for  me  to  cloud  your  judgment  or  your  sense  of  right." 

"Thanks,  Mamselle,  for  your  confidence.  But  of  what  weighty  matter  am 
I  to  be  judge?" 

"Of  course,  you  know  that  Claire  is  Mrs.  Hay  ward's  next  of  kin  and  con- 
sequently heir  of  her  estate." 

"Mamselle,  don't  allow  quixotic  notions  to  run  away  with  your  good  sense." 
Major  Kendrick  said  quickly. 

"The  old  Don  fought  wind  mills  and  creatures  of  his  own  creation,  but  I 
am  facing  a  very  serious  question  of  right  and  wrong  which  must  be  answered. 
Victor  and  Claire  will  not  even  listen  to  the  suggestion  that  I  shall  renounce 
my  rights  to  Auntie's  estate,  yet  I  have  ever  before  me  the  condition,  'As  long 
as  you  are  James'  wife.'    Has  not  that  condition  ceased?" 

Marc  Kendrick  caught  himself  in  time  to  check  the  fervent  "Thank  God" 
that  rose  reverentially  to  his  lips. 

"Perhaps,  but  in  those  things,  one  must  look  to  the  intention,  as  certainly 
Mrs.  Hayward  never  meant  that  her  son's  widow  should  be  left  in  want.  Do 
you  honestly  believe  that  she  did?" 

Eita  studied  a  moment,  then  said: 

"Honestly,  I  think  Auntie  would  have  provided  for  me  in  that  emergency." 

"Then  content  your  soul  in  patience.  Should  you  ever  marry,  it  will  then 
be  time  to  discuss  the  question  and  make  restitution." 

"Your  advice  seems  reasonable,  so  I  must  abide  by  it.  As  to  the  con- 
tingency, 'Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.'  "     Eita  quoted  laugt- 


RIGHT  OK  WEONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AKD  TAITH.  141 

ingly,  and  Marc  Kendrick  once  more  realized  that  she  had  effectually  frozen 
the  words  that  hovered  on  his  lips. 

Before  leaving  that  night,  Marc  Kendrick  said,  "Mamselle,  one  good  turn 
deserves  another — I  want  you  and  your  mother  to  ride  with  me  to-morrow.  I 
•want  to  show  you  something. " 

"That  will  be  delightful  for  both  of  us.  I  hope  our  advice  on  the  mysteri- 
ous subject  will  be  as  full  of  wisdom  as  youra  was  to  me,  though  you  evidently 
don't  trust  my  judgment  as  I  did  yours,"  she  added  mischievously. 

"I  am  willing  to  chance  it  if  you  will,"  he  said  seriously.  "Shall  I  with- 
draw my  invitation  to  your  mother?" 

' '  No,  indeed.  There  is  wisdom  in  numbers.  Besides  I  would  not,  for  worlds, 
deprive  Mamma  of  the  ride,  whatever  its  objective  point." 

"So  be  it  then — at  ten  to-morrow" — 

The  morrow  proved  to  be  one  of  those  days  which  seems  to  remain  in  the 
memory,  a  day  pulsating  with  rejuvenated  life,  as  if  each  separate  leaf  and  twig 
sang  a  paean  of  praise  for  its  very  existence.  A  cloudless,  intensely  blue  sky, 
strongly  recalled  to  Mrs.  Levillier  the  Itlaliaii  iskies  she  had  sio  admired  in  her 
girlhood  days,  and  a  balmy  breeze,  laden  with  the  rich  perfume  of  tree  and 
flower  added  its  quota  of  charm  to  the  faultless  day. 

All  three  enjoyed,  without  words,  the  power  of  nature's  spell,  and  conversa- 
tion languished  until  Marc  Kendrick  reined  in  the  handsome  bays  just  at  the 
foot  of  a  gentle  incline  that  rose  from  the  bayou's  bank. 

"I  find,"  began  Mare  Kendrick  abruptly,  "that  it  is  very  inconvenient  to 
drive  fifteen  miles  to  Church,  even  weather  permitting,  but  in  rain  and  cold  it 
is,  at  times,  simply  impossible,  and  as  I  never  miss  mass,  if  I  can  reach  a  Church, 
I  have  determined  to  build  a  chapel  on  this  spot." 

"You,  a  Catholic?"  exclaimed  mother  and  daughter. 

"You  never  asked  nor  suspected  the  truth,"  Marc  said  reproachfully. 

"I  am  proud  of  the  fact  that  my  forebears  came  with  Cecil  Calvert  to 
Maryland,  the  true  cradle  of  American  liberty  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  When, 
at  last,  persecution  took  the  place  of  tolerance,  my  great  grandfather  removed 


142  EIGHT  OE  WKONG;  A  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  FAITH. 

to  Pennsylvania  where,  under  Penn's  mild  rule,  all  coitfd  worship  as  they 
pleased.  In  what  is  now  Chester,  near  the  site  where  Franklin  erected  the  Ivy 
MilXB,  he  built  his  home,  and  in  it  was  a  chapel  where  those  priests,  missionariefl 
to  the  Indians,  or  those  driven  from  less  hospitable  lands,  could  fisd  rest  and 
the  open  practice  of  their  religion.  So  I  feel  that  on  land  owned  by  a  Kendrick 
there  must  be  a  place  of  worship,  and  here  I  will  hope  to  start  a  mission  among 
the  blacks,  trusting  and  hoping  to  put  into  their  hearts  some  of  Mam  Tel's 
honesty  and  faithfulness.    But  what  do  you  think  of  the  spot?" 

'"There  can  be  but  one  opinion.  It  is  the  most  beautiful  part  of  La  NouveUe 
France. ' ' 

"Of  the  'Mamselle,'  "  Marc  corrected  as  he  looked  significantly  at  Rita. 

''We  often  wondered  why  Mr.  LaBaron  did  not  build  his  home  here,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Levillier, 

"It  is  certainly  an  ideal  spot,"  said  Rita,  gazing  at  the  distant  prospect. 
"The  sweep  of  the  river,  the  grand  old  oaks,  the  vista  of  the  blue  sky,  all 
combine  to  make  it  a  fitting  place  to  erect  a  place  of  worship  to  the  Creator. ' ' 

To  decide,  with  Mare  Kendrick,  was  to  act,  and  shortly,  a  beautiful,  little 
G-othic  Church  rose  on  the  spot; — yet  Mare  Kendrick  became  more  and  more  rest- 
less and  his  absences  more  frequent.  Sometimes  he  made  daily  excuses  to  see 
Rita,  but  at  others,  even  when  he  was  at  "Mamselle,"  he  would  absent  himself 
for  days.  If  Rita  noticed  these  changes  in  his  conduct,  she  gave  no  sign,  receiv- 
ing him  in  her  own  hospitable  style,  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  his  allusions,  or 
meeting  them  in  her  own  inimitably  bantering  manner.  Once,  for  the  first  time. 
Marc  referred  to  her  sojourn  in.  the  North. 

"You  seemed  to  make  frequent  visits  there.  Yet,  calling  yourself  friend, 
you  never  came  to  make  it  less  dreary  for  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land." 

Mare  Kendrick  looked  at  her  meaningly,  as  he  said: 

"Will  you  not  believe  that  in  those  days  I  was  man  enough  not  only  to 
pray  not  to  be  led  into  temptation,  but  to  do  my  share  in  avoiding  it?" 

"And  were  you  awarded  the  guerdon  you  deserved?"  she  asked  mockingly. 


RIGHT  OE  WRONG;  A  TALE  OP  WAR  AND  FAITH.  143 

"Most  certainly,  the  only  guerdon  I  sought,  the  approval  of  my  own  con- 
science," he  replied  bitterly,  as  he,  for  the  first  time,  doubted  Eita'si  candor. 

A  few  days  after,  he  left  "Mamselle"  suddenly,  sending  his  adieus  by 
Victor — 

Two  weeks  later,  Rita  received  the  following  letter: 
MamseUe: 

"I  have  fought  the  good  fight,  and  am  most  ignominiously  defeated.  I 
find  absence  as  useless  to  make  me  forget  as  your  presence.  I  musjt  have  an 
answer  to  the  question  that  has  trembled  on  my  lips,  and  has  been  turned  aside, 
l>y  yonr  raillery  and  indifference.  I  want  a  prompt  and  decided  reply  to  my 
question.  Do  not  write.  If  your  answer  is  unfavorable,  I  could  not  bear  it; 
and  if  joy  is  to  be  mine,  time  is  too  precious.  Send  me  a  telegram,  and  veil  it, 
as  youi  may,  I  will  understand.  Is  Mamselle  to  have  a  new  mistress  or  a  new 
master?"  MARC. 

That  evening  the  wires  carried  the  message,  and  Mare  Kendrick  smiled  as 
he  read  the  epigramatic,  yet  characteristic,  reply:     "Both." 

THE  END. 


/» 


/ 


Date  Due 

1 

CALL  NUMBER     j^oL 

DateTfoTpeiTodical) 

Copy  No- 


973.793 
B155 


Author: 


973.793      B155 


248284 


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